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#and a cape can be a fancy thing but i wanted more of a fantasy feels & i'm not sure it would capture that
quibbs126 · 28 days
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If you haven't already or if you can, could you do mint choco and dark choco fancied? (It's a comfort ship-)
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Here you go, this is Mint Chip Cookie
So basically Mint Chip over here is the current prince of the Dark Cacao Kingdom. He is also missing an arm, due to that arm being underbaked in the oven and simply falling off, but he's fine with it, that's just the reality he's always known. Mint Chip in general is a very chill guy, you'd never really see him get upset. He's not the most physically capable or active Cookie, outside of his missing limb, and he instead focuses his time into magic. Speaking of which, he has the ability to control ice and snow, something he was born with. His family isn't quite sure why he has these powers (a fear is that he's a frost child), but he's cool with it regardless
He's also not the only kid I've given ice powers to, as another one, Red Mochi, also has them. I don't know how they'd meet but they'd probably be good friends. Then there's also Hoarfrost, my frostcacao kid but she makes sense to have those powers and she ain't done yet
Anyways, on to his name. He's based on mint chocolate chip ice cream, since mint and chocolate and one of them's already Mint Choco. It had to be shortened significantly so now it's just Mint Chip
Mint chocolate chip ice cream:
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So I think the only reason I had him missing an arm is because I didn't want to draw another arm and I wanted a cape draping over one side. So armless it is
I also tried to make his design look a bit more...medieval fantasy, if that's the correct term. Basically what I mean is, Dark Choco and Dark Cacao's defaults look closer to European knights than they do Korean, and I wanted to incorporate that into Mint Chip's look as well
I believe I took Mint Chip's boots from Dark Choco's Young Prince design
I gave Mint Chip the black streaks because of the chips in the ice cream, as well as it being the best way to mix both hair colors in, since they both have white streaks already. Though I'm wondering if maybe I could have made his green hair lighter, to better match the ice cream
I believe Mint Chip originally had green eyes, but I changed them to red when I realized his colors were way too much Mint Choco and not enough Dark Choco. That may have also been why he has a red brooch thing, but I may have just added that regardless (and that one is harmless, unlike Dark Choco's)
Then I gave Mint Chip the semi shoulder pad and green chips just to add some more pizzazz to his design, since it's mostly flat colors
But overall I'd say I like his design. I wouldn't call him a banger like Tune Melt or Peppermint Mocha, he's a little too simple to be in their category, but he's at least a 7/10
And yeah that's Mint Chip, I hope you enjoy him
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scribble-dee-vee · 4 days
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Happy STS! Which of your characters do you think would be most popular among cosplayers? If you had to pick one of your OCs to cosplay, who would it be?
Oh heck yea! Thanks for the ask; I lowkey forgot that STS was a thing
So, I loooove cosplay as an art form/means of having fun! I used to do it more when I was younger, and I still dress up for cons/fan themed events. I also follow a lot of cosplay content online. I must admit that I think about the cosplay-ability of my characters a LOT. Like, every author wants a screen adaptation/a fully VA'd audiobook/whatever, but I specifically want silly creative ppl on the internet to dress up as my lads!!
That being said, I have many opinions on this front.
Taking a broad look at the Heart of Lead universe, I think it would offer a lot of different options to cosplayers. I could see the extended cast catering to people of all skill levels and interests, at least in terms of character design. You got regular-ass humans with one or two defining physical traits (although someone could always go in for more detail, because of the Victorian-fantasy clothes)! You also got characters with A.) complicated armor/uniforms/gowns, B.) wings/fangs/assorted fantastical traits, and C.) like,,, props?? Like there is a very large, somewhat evil sentient sword in this universe, and I would die happy if someone made their own for cosplay purposes. I would DIE.
All that in mind, here are the characters I think would be the most popular to cosplay, based on my observations of present-day cosplay communities online. I've given all them "most ___" awards, for funsies.
Dale Porter – most popular. No contest whatsoever. Sarcastic, evil, conventionally attractive white man. People love to cosplay characters with this profile; it's inescapable, and somewhat obnoxious. He's also fairly easy to cosplay, I would argue, as long as u got a white wig. (I would not personally cosplay him. He is my pookie but he can go ROT.)
Rosalind Lake – most sexy. If you want to wear an ostentatious dress and look hot in a femme way, here ya go. She's not the most important character, but her look is distinctive and fun. (I would definitely cosplay Rosalind.)
Wren Dorian – most steampunk. Listen, if you love steampunk/gaslamp fantasy/cabaret rock aesthetics, she is your GIRL. Big curly hair, big boots, massive belt full of tools, potentially goggles if you're feeling really fancy. Wren also gets some interesting design variations throughout the series that make her even cooler. (I would cosplay Wren. I have closet-cosplayed her before.)
Nicolas – most edgy. At least, that's how I think people would cosplay him. He wears a black trench coat and fingerless gloves for like half of the series; he has emo boy hair; he lowkey looks like Dream of the Endless. I'm not going to spoil his magical abilities, which make him EVEN EDGIER, but those exist, and they also impact his physical appearance. He's a sweetie boy baby who cries a whole lot, but he LOOKS very cool to one's inner 13-year-old. (I would cosplay Nicolas, and I have closet-cosplayed him before!)
Vesper – most fantasy. They're a faerie. He has wings. Their magic turns their eyes and fingers black. He wears sickass gender-nonconforming outfits, including such articles as capes and tiaras. If I was actually going to pour tens of hours into creating a cosplay from the HoL universe, I would 100% cosplay Vesper. They look cool as hell. (Also, fun personality – he's very outgoing and sweet!)
I'll leave it there for now, but I genuinely have SO many more opinions about HoL cosplay potentiality. There are options for the ppl who only cosplay evil dilfs,,,, for ppl who like to play princess dress-up,,,,, for ppl who incorporate gore and horror elements into their cosplays,,,,, we've got it all!!
(Now to get about FINISHING and PUBLISHING these books, so ppl can feasibly do this. Lmao.)
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honourablejester · 1 year
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Top 5 Rogues in Fiction
Oh, okay. Watch me forget every character I’ve known. But off the top of my head:
Eugenides from the Queen’s Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner. THE BEST. THE WORST. Everyone around him wants to worship him and/or wring his neck, often simultaneously. Regularly steals kingdoms from people. My all-time favourite thief.
Corvo Attano from Dishonored. Everyone loves the mute traumatised rat assassin falling off buildings and (depending on chaos) saving souls.
Lando Calrissian from Star Wars. Baby me fell so hard for this space pirate prince with his cloud city and his cape and his gambling and his heart-wrenching decision between his city and his friend.
Ezra Standish from The Magnificent Seven (1998). I am a complete sucker for a fancy-pants gambler with a heart (and tooth) of gold and more ten-dollar words than actual dollars. Between him and Lando, gamblers are a bit of a thing for me.
If we’re talking archetypes, Hermes from Greek Mythology informed a lot for me. Also Lugh from Irish mythology, and several other mythological tricksters. But Hermes was my first, when my granddad gave me a big book of Greek Mythology. Hermes is why I love to mingle tricksters and psychopomps together, thieves and the grave.
(Occasionally) Honourable mentions: Rin Setsua from Thunderbolt Fantasy (amazing trickster asshole), Jonathan Carnahan from The Mummy (“And did I panic? I think not!”), Arsene Lupin (original flavour), Arsene Lupin from Lupin III, Selina Kyle from Batman, Hardison & Parker from Leverage, Althalus from The Redemption of Althalus (I realised David Eddings is iffy, but this was one of my childhood books), Slanter from The Wishsong of Shannara (arguably a ranger, but he was my introduction to surly, sneaky, morally ambiguous, competent, enemies-to-allies), Willow from Willow (even when facing an evil sorceress, bog-standard sleight of hand can and will win the day), Robin Hood from Disney’s Robin Hood (childhood), Hawkins & Jean from The Court Jester, Artemus Gordon from the (original) Wild Wild West, an uncountable number of spies …
Actually, you know what? I’ll shut up now. But I enjoy a good rogue, I really, really do.
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beat Forspoken, and while I probably will write an in-depth review down the line cuz i have many thoughts, I'm just going to pointform my basic thoughts while it's still fresh.
PROS
Great designs all around, the Tantas look so breathtaking with their extravagant designs and yet it doesn't take away from their world, it fits just right in. Absolutely love it.
Good world building most questions i had were answered either through the main story or extra archive stuff. Nothing felt too weird yknow
Gameplay gameplay gameplay. The magic system is literally amazing. I dont think I've had this much fun fighting in an rpg in a long time. Theres so much fun variety so you can focus on whats comfortable for you while also looking sick as fuck. Have i mentioned how good the battle system is cuz i avoid playing mage in every game because its such a slog but here its so fast paced and hits hard. Perfect for me.
The music is soooo good, I love the main theme and find myself humming it literally all the time.
Great graphics but maybe a lil too many particle effects but otherwise really pretty.
The story is technically a pro. Like its good, not bad, not great, just good. Basically something you'd find in the YA Fantasy section, thats the kinda quality it was. Which isn't a insult I did enjoy the story and characters. It just needed polish, fix up the dialogue and trim some of the story fat and i wouldn't have any complaints tbh. Probably would do better as a book series tho ngl, not sure what game format would have saved it.
Shoutout to the accessibility options. I'm glad more games are including these. I'll never understand complaints about them though, like just dont use them if you dont want/need to thats it.
ALMOST FORGOT THE COOLEST THING. THE NAILS. I'm sorry but the idea of using nail art to inscribe magic runes to give you buffs is the coolest fucking idea ever, why has this concept not been used till now. We always see rune tatoos or written on gear and stuff im fantasy media but this is such a neat ideaaaa and im forever thankful for it. Her capes are cool too I guess, with there was more variety rather than recolors tho. Kinda wish we could also get different outfits for her tho. Those jeans probably chafe.
CONS
THE OPEN WORLD IS SO BIG FOR NO GODDAMN REASON. I honestly wish this wasn't an open world game tbh, its so unnecessary. Halfway through the game, i got so frustrated and ignored everything that wasn't story points cuz getting everywhere takes so damn long, especially early on when you dont have fancy parkour or stamina. Easily its biggest fault for me.
I understand they thought it'd do way better than what happened but planning out a story as a trilogy in the gaming industry is not a smart move. I've yet to play the dlc so idk if we get closure but the loose ends werent a great way for the game to end.
Oh, the dialogue. Its easily one of the gamest weakest points. Like the type of dialogue i was writing in my original stories when i was 13 (not that ive gotten any better tbh). Basically, it's not what you expect from such a vaunted company. Frey is great when shes excited or angry, which is most of the time, but occasionally, they'll hit me with the cheesiest line I've heard in years, and idk how to handle it. Like the stuff she says in the final chapter is honestly so robotic, there is no natural flow present. Which is a pity cuz the actress was killing it tbh, like she definitely carried the lines with her emotion. Unfortunately, it couldn't save them. Like if it was something they dropped on ps3 or wii, it honestly would have done fine. What i mean to say is the dialogue is very outdated in this age of gaming. im actually surprised how out of touch it feels. Especially since otherwise its a solid game all around. Regarding Cuff and Frey banter you do have the option to make it less frequent or just turn it off but i never really found them annoying regardless.
Maybe its just me but the control scheme feels so weird, the games makes you feel like you should be gliding most of the time but holding O while spaming all those trigger buttons feels so awkward to me. But then again I also didnt care enough to change the control scheme so.
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sinquisition · 5 months
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informal, alternate, and wardrobe for tierce and ro :3
informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?
If Tierce is wearing clothes on a lazy day (rare) he usually just has a pair of soft comfy drawstring pants and maybe an open shirt or just something reminiscent of a bandeau over his breasts. Just comfortable and easy to relax in. Rodaine on the other hand is bad at relaxing so once he's up for the day he's getting dressed even if he doesn't have anything in particular to do. His outfits tend toward poet-style shirts and pants that maybe tend towards the tight side (still comfortable but definitely showing off a bit. He thinks it looks nice with the shirts).
alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!
For modern au Tierce, he's got a lot of ripped jeans, sleeveless shirts, and leather jackets. He's also a big fan of boots. Very punk rock and cool. I already answered modern au for Rodaine so... oh! I just remembered vampire au! He also wears a lot of poet-y shirts there but I think he's fancier as a vampire than he normally is. Lace on his sleeves, high-collared fancy jackets and coats. Maybe even a cape or two. Very stereotypical victorian vampire fashion because why not lean into it?
wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?
I think they both expand their wardrobes at specific points of their stories. In Lothering Tierce didn't have much because there wasn't a guarantee they wouldn't have to flee again and they'd previously been moving a lot so they didn't have a lot of space to have a lot of clothes and they didn't always have much money for it either. Tierce is great and mending his own clothes because of this and he's used to having not much variety when living in lowtown. When he gets to hightown and has more walking around money he definitely goes on a bit of a shopping spree. Lots of exploring fashion in a way he wasn't able to do before and figuring out what he *really* likes to wear. A Lot of his spending money goes towards jewelry lmao. He does still spend time mending his favorite pieces of clothing to keep wearing them longer.
Rodaine is used to wearing threadbare second- or third-hand circle robes and is decent at mending, though it's not his preferred method of spending idle time. The second he has a small amount of change he gets at least something that isn't a Circle robe. He moves on from robes asap and invests in armor when he becomes an arcane warrior etc. He cycles through stuff as it becomes defunct or useful during the Blight bc mending is more effort than it's worth to sell armor for scrap when he's pulled a whole new nice set of armor off a corpse or something. His wardrobe of actual clothes once he settles in Amaranthine I think is not too big or fancy, just basic Warden uniforms, his poet shirts and tight pants, maybe one or two formal outfits. Gideon I'm sure gets him some nice things but he doesn't buy much for himself unless it's to replace something threadbare/damaged. In the universe where he goes after Morrigan I think he's back to not having much of a wardrobe, just whatever they can find/repair/make themselves. Mending still isn't his favorite pasttime but he's content with it.
He's also perfectly content letting Gideon dress him up in the universe where they're together in amaranthine 🥰
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science-lings · 2 years
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Fun Design Details and Random Facts about My Links
Sage (BotW): Conceptually post-botw2 so they have longer hair with a more gingery tinge and they may or may not have a prosthetic/ magic limb, when we get more info about botw2 I’ll probably figure it out lmao. Anyway they’re the magical guy bc they keep the Champions powers and was affected by dying so they can talk to ghosts and do other minor necromancy, also they’re a skilled elixir maker and food enchanter and general little witch guy. Color scheme is generally blues and teals and greens but they also wear a lot of pink and red bc in game they look pretty good in it. Has a big pretty green cloak that's heavily embroidered bc they seem like the type. What is a big cloak but a cool fantasy comfort hoodie.
Guardian (AoC): A major part of his design and backstory is that he’s half sheikah. He has patches of white hair and a section of red in one of his eyes. He generally wears the normal sheikah stealth armor or the sleeveless turtleneck body suit bc he likes to be flexible. He has a dark teal/ blue sheikah forehead tattoo, but in his original design I had the idea of putting the tattoo on his mouth. so that when he opened it the eye would open but it was too complicated so I decided against it. His color scheme is blues and purples and grays and that muted bronze of sheikah armor. This version of the champions garb is a scarf-cape ie LU Warriors. Doesn’t always wear it as it gets in the way an is kind of impractical. It looks pretty cool though. 
Captain (WW): A big part of his design change is that I wanted to give him darker skin but keep his sun bleached blonde hair, as I feel like more people of the great sea should be less white. He spends so much time in the sun that it’s a mystery how he was supposed to be so pale. He also has a lot of freckles and subtle scars. He wears some of Tetra’s princess Zelda jewelry, like the little ear wings and anything else pretty. He turned his old green cap into a little scarf/ bandana because there’s no way he would fit in the outfit now. This guy is kinda tall, at least for a Link. I liked his little swirly belt buckle so I kept that and gave him Linebeck’s coat to add to the pirate aesthetic. His color scheme is greens and blues and golds and accents in jewel tones since he wears a lot of jewels. He also wears smudgy eyeliner and dark eyeshadow. 
King (SkSw): You know that cool iridescent metal that SkSw Zelda has as the main material for her jewelry? Well King is absolutely decked in it. It’s what his loftwing shaped crown is made out of and he has jeweled rings and a necklace all made out of the stuff. He has a serious wing motif, there are wings on his clothes and new sword and that’s not to mention the crown. Hylia always had a bird thing going on so King is really playing into that. He has his loftwings feathers as a shoulder piece and his sailcloth was turned into more of a sash-cape. Looks very roman. Color scheme is reds and purples and humble warm browns. He doesn’t like looking too fancy all the time but he definitely dresses a little more extravagantly than the average Hylian. 
Hunter (TP): He’s the type to wear a lot of leather armor, a good balance of protection and flexibility, as his job is literally monster hunting he decided to invest in something like that. Has a full wolf pelt tied around his waist and I kinda want to give him a skirt like that one concept art. Maybe that’s just what he wears whenever he isn’t in full armor lmao. His hair is gradually turning black due to the prolonged use of twili magic. He has the markings on his face and thighs that mirror his wolf form but they only show up at night and they glow because i think that would be cool. He has a kind of shaggy mullet and a grumpy vibe but has a surprisingly dadly quality about him. His color scheme is mostly neutral with blacks and browns and greys but with a bit of the classic forest green and bronze chainmail. Yes he has fangs, are you surprised?
Hero (OoT): Wow this guy almost looks normal, sure he wears a little more green than the average person and tends to wear tights while on horseback, but he’s not one for armor or anything too crazy. Okay, he wears his golden gauntlets when it’s convenient but is generally not too crazy with his design. His hair is long enough to be in a low ponytail and is nice and normal. I might add some white hair despite him being in his early twenties. That all changes when he puts on the FD mask though. I’m planning on making the markings that come from that be more complex than just thick lines and making them glow bc it should be unambiguous how powerful this guy is. I mean, it’s still the same guy, he just kicks more ass. It lowers his voice and makes him astronomically strong. It’s really hard to actually hurt him and he’s taller and generally pretty terrifying. 
General (HW): I’m gonna be honest, his design is really giving me some trouble. I’m not sure exactly how to make him interesting while still staying true to the character. I could go full Camelot type medieval knight but I’m not sure that feels quite right. I could make his era more based around Elizabethan England, so I can give him funny hair and give the royal court some tutor type drama but I’m not quite sure. In any case, his life is full of hiding in the castle whenever he’s able to, to avoid stalkers, and doing his best to combat manipulative royal courtiers that he doesn’t tell the Queen about because he doesn’t want to become a problem. His color scheme is vibrant royal blues with orange accents. Bright colors are only for the fancy people and the General is nothing if not fancy. 
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queensparklekitten · 1 year
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1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, 16, 17, 19, 21, 22, 26, 27, 30, 31, 32, 33, 35, 37
wow that is a lot
hmmm... azaleas cause they're in minecraft
so is the type of flower determined by the person with the disease or the person they have it about? make up your mind ask game
magical girl outfit. with a multilayered tulle skirt, a frilly neckline, short frilly sleeves, a tiara, and ribbons around my arms and legs. and lots of pearls and gems.
i'd be the goddess of... well my bio says i'm the goddess of sparkly things. so, luxury and what's the word again for that feeling you get when you see something really pretty or a super cool performance. i'd accept most sacrifices, with only a few things that are off-limits.
*insert entire minecraft end poem*
battle axe if i'm feeling especially unhinged, scythe when i'm going hard on revenge and i want to look as terrifying as possible, and broad sword at other times but only if it's very ornate.
[futari wa precure spoilers redacted]
*immediately opens firefly path website* that one firefly path dress with the massive amounts of gems and fancy metal designs on the neckline and waistline and the shiny flowers that kinda looks like it's out of saga of viera , with that one firefly path cape with all the flowers and the shiny pink leaves that's got a cutout for my wings to fit through, that one firefly path crown, those ridiculously ornate firefly path wrist accessories with all the gems, flowers woven into my hair, are you seeing a pattern here? firefly path is the fantasy formal event version of aikatsu renders
am i allowed to be a hybrid of two
closest i can find's this
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but it's obviously not perfectly accurate, like those should be pearls instead of chains and it should be more tiara than full crown (but still go all the way around) and the points would be wider angles. Also the crystals would be different, like that one on the forehead would be swapped out for actually cut gems with fancy detail around them. And maybe also wings on the side of the tiara if that's an option
First one. Caves in real life aren't as much my thing unless I can roleplay Minecraft, and mornings don't last very long for me because of how late I sleep. Besides, hanging out with elves means I might get homoerotically pinned to a wall with a dagger.
Never having more than one person available to play Minecraft with me- oh wait. Jokes aside, never being able to tell people about the things living rent free in my head. Either I physically can't, or I can talk about it but no one will see it even if I send it directly to them.
All the times I've had a song pop into my head and turned on the radio or changed the radio station and that exact song was playing. This has included songs that rarely got played anymore at the time. Yes, this has happened multiple times.
Have I not done so already, when I threw that masquerade ball? If you insist, that but with more Firefly Path type detail.
Flying trumps pretty much everything
Using black magic to try to kill people
Either pastel rainbow or they'd change colours depending on my mood if that's possible. If I have to pick one, gold
Are we talking "link an existing song" or "describe a song that doesn't exist"
Flower field during summer, marketplace during the other seasons
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I remembered suddenly I might have a fabric for a cape except I was kind of thinking ths fabric should be a sort of regency coat, and now i feel like maybe it might be neither and i’m just walking around my flat sadly with the whole fabric over my shoulders like an idiot.......
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Put Some Clothes On!
But how? Winged humanoids sure do have some big limbs to work around when it comes to clothing.
(Here are the master posts for feathery wings and membranous wings)
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(Description: sketches of a feathery winged humanoid and a bat-winged humanoid. They are standing with their wings curled around their naked bodies and look concerned.)
I'm using my oc Morianten and my new tutorial oc Teo as models for this. Because clothes are more fun to draw on someone with a face instead of a blank mannequin lol.
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(Description: two images showing Morianten and Teo respectively to display basic clothing structure that accommodates feathery wings and bat wings respectively. Their outfits are pretty similar with some minor differences.)
Winged humanoids with feathery bird-like wings do have space between the wings and tail where you can add a belt. The basic structure is a halter top that fastens behind the neck and then again at the waist, with a big open space between so the wings are unobstructed. This would be put on at the neck first and then fastened at the waist. A belt can be added to attach a skirt or pants, which would be stepped into and pulled up to the base of the tail. Or the whole outfit can be a dress or jumpsuit that would be stepped into and then fastened at the waist and neck. Sleeves can be added, but they would require some specialization to stay up properly when they can’t attach to anything behind the arm.
Winged humanoids with bat-like wings do not have space for a belt, so their clothing is a little more shapeless. Think of a halter top jumpsuit or dress with an open back all the way down to the butt. It would be stepped into, pulled to the base of the tail, and then fastened at the neck. Just like the previous example, sleeves can be added but need a little extra specialization to stay up.
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(Description: Mori and Teo from behind, modeling the different ways they keep their backs warm.)
Since they can’t just throw on a normal shirt, staying warm in cold weather does require some unique solutions. For the feathery wings, honestly their back feathers might be good enough. But if it’s not good enough, a panel that fastens to the back of the neck and the back of the waist should help. And it might require some help to put on. For the bat wings, there is no waist to attach things to, so a cape attached at the neck with enough weights in the hem to keep it in place will have to do.
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(Description: Mori rocking a hood and Teo putting on some extra warm accessories.)
Hoods would be pretty easy to add to a halter top for winged people, it’s just a normal hood that might have to open in the back a little to go over the head and neck properly. Both types of winged people should be able to wear things like gloves and shoes perfectly fine, though if like me you are giving your winged people non-human feet you might have a trickier time giving them shoes.
I don’t think putting a wing cover over a feathery wing is a good idea, as it would disrupt the feathers and make flying extremely difficult. But maybe you could find a way to get a wing cover over the membranous wing. Maybe. It would be really tricky to get it to work right and be fitted properly to allow for flight. But if you want to do it, go for it, it’s fantasy bat people.
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(Description: four colored drawings of Mori and Teo modeling different outfits. In the top left, Mori is wearing a cute pink outfit with a poofy skirt that has a lace pattern on the top and fancy criss-crossed straps at the neck with matching gladiator sandals. In the opposite lower right corner, Mori is wearing a cozy blue and purple outfit with a hooded short cape and a tunic with long sleeves, as well as mittens, pants, and knee high boots. Everything on this outfit has a fluffy lining.
In the top right, Teo is wearing a practical denim jumpsuit with a green front panel that has yellow flowers on it. This panel ends in a big front pocket. He is also wearing sturdy looking knee high boots. In the opposite lower left corner, Teo is wearing a very dramatic hooded robe in a dark blue color, with flowy sleeves and gold jewelery. There is also a grey tapestry panel at the front with gold fringe and bright blue designs along it.)
It is so much fun to take the basic clothing structures and see just how much you can push them, so go wild! Even the simple outfits can be spiffed up with fun colors and patterns. And just because the outfits kind of require a halter top for the sake of the wings doesn't mean you can only do one style of clothing. You can make it masculine, feminine, androgynous, colorful, fancy, casual, etc
Clothing also helps display culture! So if you're trying to worldbuild with winged people and you’re stuck on culture stuff, think about how their specific needs regarding clothing might have developed and been affected by their lifestyles or changed their lifestyles. Bat people can’t wear belts because they have no waist gap between the wings and tail, so maybe they developed clothing with lots of pockets. Maybe your feathery humanoids are very bird like in their behavior so they wear very shiny and colorful outfits with lots of frill! The possibilities are endless.
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voidcat · 3 years
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— fangs dipped in wine
characters: chuuya nakahara, you
info: vampire au, lowkey suggestive, 2.3k
a/n: let's all pretend for a hot second bram stoker was an actual author in bsd and that instead of abilities, there are vampires<3 I'll probably do a p2 to this in a timeskip way so itll b more fun yay,,
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Several days ago, it was just an idea. A laughing matter. A ‘what-if’ to build scenarios on and giggle.
Several days ago, it was night time too, the taste of alcohol fresh, her laugh right beneath your ear, it was warm, and bubbly and there was a sense of direction, a certainty.
Several days ago your friend hadn’t suddenly announced dropping out and moving out of the shared apartment you two had yet. Maybe she had been considering for a while now but in that very moment, it hadn’t happened yet, your world wasn’t upside down.
“Just imagine!-“ her breath fawned over your ear, glasses clinking against one another. “So I’m talking to this guy, right? Like music stuff, and movies, and all. No feelings whatsoever,” you found it hard not to roll your eyes and was met with a shove. “Not like that!” she protested. “He tells me about his boyfriend, I even helped him plan a surprise party once.”
“You cannot know if he’s faking…” you remember saying, in that knowing tone, smooth like silk and lecturing. “Yea whatever. Anyways! Get this:” placing the glass down in concentration that was foreign to her, you were intrigued.
“They don’t have vampires.”
“No way.” Slowing taking another sip from your drink, it sounded like a fantasy almost. Sure, there were rumors of not every country having vampires but it was numbered, there were so little, and the vampires? They were ever present.
“So he says: ‘Hey, aren’t they all rich peeps always wanting fresh blood? What if you have lots of blood already, and make a deal? You can trick them to pay you loads for it and you’d not even have to have them near your neck!’-“ she paused to let out a bark, you’re sure she’s been doing it since she first saw the message.
“And-“ another pause, to shed a tear, “and he says, ‘and if the vampire is hot? Bonus points! They got those fancy houses, you’d no longer pay rent either.’” The mocking of the voice comes to an end. “Can you believe? A deal, with a Vampire of all people! And he says rent fixed!”
You had to admit, for someone who claims to not met any vampires, it sounded charming on paper, but in Yokahoma?, not so much. At a moment of weakness, you looked at one another, daring, and next, breaking into a fit of laughter and downing the glass in one gulp.
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How many days has it been since that night? Five? Maybe seven? It was long enough to miss her presence now, but too short to be threatened by the landlord.
One night you’re at your favorite pub with your dearest friend downing drink after drink. You can remember the stars in the sky that night, you thought it was just your brain imagining it, as well as the crescent moon hanging so delicately.
And next thing you know, you’ve just left this bar, despite the temperature it was cold on your bones, and here stands the redhead, his breath fawning over your neck, mouth open, but not to tell a story for the laughs.
He didn’t bother to hide the fangs and you didn’t bother to leave the place.
An idea you called stupid few nights ago just happened to make sense in that sad sulking state. And then he had to appear, with a glass of expensive wine, locks covering his face just fine, a vest that fits his body perfectly and fangs shining under the dim lights of the bar.
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“Oh-kay, that’s enough.” You push his face off with your palm in one go. The ‘thump’ of his hat falling on the floor and the yelp coming from his lips fill the air.
“You’re no fun.” he pouts as he picks up his hat.
“So, how we’re doing this? And no, you cannot drink straight from my neck!” you finish before he can raise a finger.
A moment of silence follows the two of you, it’s a nice place. Expensive looking furniture though it’s more like a house from a catalogue than a home. Still, impressive –he, ‘what was his name again?’, definitely has a taste. The empty crystal glasses sit on the table, next to the bottle, a candle close to burning out completely flickers its flame lazily as your eyes wander.
Your gaze moves onto his sapphire eyes then, watching your every move and breath carefully, but not patiently. You can hear him vibrate with every molecule in his body, trying so hard not to lunge forward or speak up, maybe grab your arm and pull you back towards his chest.
“So? Hello?..” you drag the the ‘o’ and wave a hand in front of his face, “Anyone home?”
Like someone hypnotized stepping out of a trance at a snap of fingers, he jolts, pupils narrow, then widen and focus on your face. “Ah, sorry-“ he starts walking away.
Then he fakes a cough, as if you didn’t catch him staring already… Just how the hell did you find this guy in a city filled with vampires?
He stops, turns back, reaches for your hand and you let him. “Did you drink the wine?” he walks a step ahead, still hand in hand.
“If you ask me one more time, I’ll start suspecting you added some sort of drug.” This seems to get to him, obvious from the way he almost trips on his foot and turns back in a hurry, both hands up in defense and shaking his head like crazy.
“Wh- No- No, no no! It’s nothing like that- I-“ if he didn’t look so embarrassed, you’d even say he looks flustered. His rambling stops when you snort and decide to take pity on the guy.
“Relax I was just joking.” His shoulder drop in relief. “Besides, if you put anything, it’d have kicked in by now.”
“Ah, yeah, right…” he looks down, to his right, and that’s when you see the velvet couch there. He extends his hand, in an offering manner and follows you right after.
Reaching for a pocket in his vest, he whispers to himself, you barely hear. “I just like the taste of wine in blood...”
“Weird, not what I expected, but could be worse. I’ll take it.”
Another silence follows, he avoids your gaze while your eyes never leave his eyes fumbling with his vest and cape. Maybe it’s like one of those cape like jackets, certainly matches the vibe he carries.
Under the shivering candle light, he looks so different from the bold smug suave guy who brimmed with confidence, flashed his teeth like nothing, as if the world belongs to him and anything that does not care for him simply does not exist.
And now with the same face, sits besides you someone else, eyes cast down, hands fumbling, there’s comfort in knowing this is as awkward for you as for him.
(You wonder for a second if there’s something you can do to clear the atmosphere.)
“Maybe you should be having another glass instead of asking me.” You try to say nonchalantly and it takes him a second to get what you mean. Then he smiles, and the hint of a small giggle comes out and his body seems to calm down.
“Give me your hand.” He holds out his, the palm facing the ceiling. “Well? This is the easiest way to do it without leaving permanent marks.” He sounds irritated.
“Or noticeable.” You say and he repeats, a little impatient.
Giving him your less dominant hand, you eye the dagger for as long as you can. When the cold blade meets your palm, you can barely feel its weight.
“Okay, I’ll be honest here.” He stops midway, the dagger in the air. You raise an eyebrow, signaling him to continue. “I’ve never done… this before.”
“So- uh- whatever’s the standart payment, or the whole, you know,” he waves the hand holding the dagger in the air “etiquette for this.” He sounds to be relaxing with each word. And with him, so do you. Then comes back that familiar confidence from the earlier, decorated with a hint of threat and a dare. “Just- Don’t ever try to scam or fool me.”
And goes away the determined face, replaced with surprise, as you start laughing loud, one hand over your stomach.
“Look, listen-“ you stop as you’ve begun. “Chuuya.” He fills the gap for you.
“Listen, Chuuya.” You test his name on your lips. “I’m a broke college student who can get kicked out of their flat any day now. Crossing a vampire is the last thing on my list, trust me.”
Eyes soften, a genuine smile blooms and the silence to follow isn’t heavy anymore.
When he slashes the dagger over your hand, it doesn’t sting. The blood soon reaches the surface, red thick liquid glistening in the candle’s flame, ‘life’ it says.
This is what they want, why they want it, drink it, kill for it.
Hidden in the blood, is life, with all it has seen and will see, warm, moving, trusting.
You watch in a daze as he brings your hand to his mouth. Cold lips make content with your skin, how cold and lifeless they feel against you, you see in clear contrast. The sinking of teeth doesn’t come, you don’t flinch. You can tell he’s making an effort not to bite too hard into your giving hand. Drinking the blood slowly, trying to contain himself from getting greedy, there’s no sound in the air except for your loud heartbeat, echoing in your ear and fastening with each move of his back.
The glimpse of a smile you catch in this scene before you tells, he can hear it too, and probably relish in it.
With each flicker of the flame, his lips start to feel warmer and soon he straightens up. Not a single speck of blood on his frame, he offers you the same smug smile from earlier.
Blood makes place for itself on his face, like roses blooming under the sun. His skin gains color, you didn’t notice just how dull and gray he was up until now. Life spreads so fast in his limbs, soon you can feel his warmth near you, in the air, in your hand, on the spot your knees touch. Once the base color is done, pink decorates his cheeks faintly, most likely an after effect of all that wine.
Maybe if he intervened his fingers with yours, it’d feel warmer, and in a weird way, safer.
Watching your eyes on him with amusement in his crystal ones, he seems to enjoy this, that is until his eyes focus on a spot of yours and cannot stop examining every other spot, every single pore, mark, hair and color you have, memories you carry.
The flicker of the light blends in, the warmth pulls the two of you in, time feels gone, like it never existed, maybe nothing every existed except for the two of you sitting before each other.
A sudden crash, from the outside and the magic is gone with a snap.
Noticing your hands, you pull it back to your chest fast.
His goes back to his head and he looks away, anther shy smile on his face.
“What- How should we proceed next?” he breaks the silence first, attempting to gather back a sense of seriousness to his voice. In a way, he should too, this is technically business, isn’t it?
Glancing at your palm, you open and close it few times. Not a speck of pain is there.
“Once every week maybe? If that’s alright. Although we may cancel few weeks, you never know what comes up last minute.”
The dagger nowhere in sight, probably returned to a pocket of his already, he looks pleased with your reply. “Sounds good to me.”
Without further ado, you get up to look for the door you first walked in.
“Wait!-“ he follows in a hurry, almost slipping, again, and trying to find something in his jacket.
Go you! For forgetting why you agreed to a vampire’s house in the first place. “Is- uh- is this alright? Or is it so little? We never discussed payment, y’know.” He holds out a lot more than you expected, but then again, vampires live for thousands of years. He must have quite the amount lying around somewhere after all.
Unsure what to do with the money he slips into your hand, you meet his eyes. “That’s… more than enough actually. Thanks.”
He rests one hand on hip, taking in your surprised face. “Don’t mention it. I’ve got plenty.” Touching your elbow lightly, he guides you to the door, dragging his feet. By the time you reach the door, he makes no move to open it, not that it was ever locked in the first place.
Turning of the knob, you take a step ahead, motions limited on both sides; dragging, waiting for something to happen, something to be said, for the air to be broken.
By the time you’re one foot outside, he clears his throat with a fake cough, covering his mouth. “Same time, same place, next week?” his gaze cast on the floor, stealing glances to see what you will do next.
You turn to him with a smile. “Works for me.” And tilt your head “but what if one of us cannot find the other?”
“Oh I’ll find you alright.” He chuckles with a grin. Truly a sight to sell the whole vampire image he got going, even if he hadn’t been one.
Feet standing next to each other, you’re out now, furrowing your eyebrows with a look of disapproval to match his grin, unimpressed.
“You sound like a creep. Don’t do it again.”
And with it, you turn your back to him, already on your way. The ginger left behind, an unfinished “okay” hanging on his lips, eyes focused on your form, swallowed by the shadows, waiting for the next night to be spent with you, already impatient.
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chazz-anova · 2 years
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A Little Bit Of Magic - Chapter 1
Fandom: Far Cry 5
Word Count: 1.8k
Summary: Lady Veronica Rook, a wizard turned rogue bounty hunter and part time thief, is approached by one of the King's men on a stormy night to acquire her services. Little does she know, she's setting off on a quest that will change her forever. (Fantasy!AU)
A/N: LITERALLY I saw one picture and that spawned this entire AU lmao, this has been a fun start and I'm excited for the rest of this little mini-series! I hope you all like as well <3
Dancing candlelight casted amorphous shadows on a bare stone wall. In the center of the room, a firepit blazed; warming the bones of weary travelers who sought refuge from a tempest storm brewing outside the walls of the inn.
Barmaids bustled from table to table, bringing stout ale to rowdy patrons. One such patron sat at the short oak bar, nursing a tankard of beer. In front of the customer stood a barkeep who looked rather piqued. “Veronica, every night you sit here and take up space that could be filled by paying customers. Pray tell, what must I do to squeeze some coin from you?” The woman asked, her sunny blonde hair bobbing as she swept a damp rag over the counter.
Across the bar, Veronica looked up from her stein with a smirk as she replied, “You’d just as likely squeeze coin from me as easily as you’d milk a dragon, Mary May. Is there not a special allowance for a friend who’s saved your life twice over?”
“If I’d known your aid would end up costing me damn near a barrel of ale in the long run, I would have gladly thrown myself into the jaws of death!” Mary professed dramatically, a small smile giving her away.
V rose her tankard high, proclaiming “And what you pay in ale, you make back doubly in entertainment!”
With a sigh- the barmaid stashed the rag she’d been holding under the counter. “Well allow me to take my leave, before your entertainment proves to be too much!” Mary May rolled her eyes as she departed to the back storeroom; Veronica always knew how to work her last nerve.
Now left to her own devices, the woman spun in her seat to analyze the other patrons. She hoped with any luck, she could swindle some coin from someone deep in their cups to secure a room for the night. Unfortunately- saving a friend’s life only afforded you free drinks, not free rooms. Having grown up in the streets of the Kingdom of Hope, Veronica trusted her pickpocketing skills; especially in a tavern such as this.
The Splayed Eagle Inn was run by V’s friend, Mary May, and had been her home for the past few months. All types found themselves in this bar, whether they be well-to-do, working class, or a simple ne’er-do-well. Of course- Veronica liked to think she didn’t fit into any of those categories.
Sitting around the main floor of the inn were a few possible targets, and our girl set to sizing up the first; an older man seated in the corner. He wore the garb of the royal guard. His complexion was that of worn leather, and his eyes scanned the room suspiciously. ‘Not a great mark..’ Veronica thought, shifting her gaze to her next person.
The person in question was not a person at all, but rather a dwarf. The short man guzzled beer from his stein greedily, egged on by two more of his kind. Finishing the drink he slammed down his cup and roared in revelry. ‘Though dwarves love gold and these ones would certainly have some coin, perhaps they are a hair too unmanageable for a robbery.’ Considering this, the woman moved down the list.
Just as Veronica was about to size up her next mark, she felt a hand on her shoulder. The blonde turned, expecting to see Mary May had returned to give her more grief. V was surprised to see an unfamiliar face and she immediately went on the defense, shrugging the stranger’s hand off her shoulder. “Can I help you?” Her words dripped with distrust.
The stranger met her eyes with a look of contempt, and V considered grabbing her dagger in case things became dicey. The woman who’d grabbed her shoulder stepped back now, regarding Veronica coldly with dark eyes. She wore a black fur cape with the hood up, obscuring her features, though her greasy black hair hung in matted locks on her shoulders. She lifted her hood to reveal a ghastly scar across her face. “Yes, mage, I do believe you can help me.” The stranger chuckled.
Hearing her true title, Veronica started visibly, but quickly recovered. ‘How does she know? Certainly this wench is no mage, I sense no magic in her! Is she an assassin from the Guild? Gods, Mary May will kill me if I’ve brought such darkness to her doorstep!’ V’s inner monologue was harried, in contrast to her cool voice as she rebuffed, “Mage? Surely you jest! I am but a humble adventurer.”
Spitting at her feet, the woman scoffed. “Save your lies! I already know of you, Lady Veronica, and of your discharge from the Royal Mages Guild. I come seeking your help in regards to your… new vocation.”
“And what would that be?” V continued to be difficult, her tone hostile. She didn’t like how much this woman knew of her.
“Bounty hunting, of course. Or was it not you that the Royal Guard granted a bounty to just a week ago for bringing in one of the Banshee Queen’s sprites?” At this, Veronica’s mouth drew into a thin line. She knew she’d been got. The ravenette shrugged, “I dare not judge, how else is a rogue witch to make any coin these days?” Though she put on a facade of good cheer, something dangerous lurked in her gaze.
A humorless laugh escaped Ronnie and she lifted her chin defiantly, “Even if you speak the truth, why should I help you, hag?”
Smiling cruelly, she retorted “It is not I who requests your service, but your King and country.”
“Well, his Kingly-ness will simply have to bring is ass down here if he truly wants me help!” V laughed, chalking up the woman’s words to a childish prank.
Suddenly- the stranger closed the short distance between them and the mage felt the tip of a blade threatening to pierce her gut. “I would recommend a modicum of respect for King Dutch. As his bodyguard, I may feel inclined to defend his honor.”
Under her breath, Veronica murmured ancient arcane words and a ball of flames appeared in her spread palm near the woman’s head. “And I may feel inclined to worsen your scar if you do not back away.” She growled the threat, feeling a rush of relief when the King’s bodyguard moved away. She would rather not release a fan of fire in her friend’s bar.
Sheathing her dagger, the woman took a breath. “Let us start over. I am Jess Black, bodyguard and right hand to King Dutch Roosevelt.” She gave a stately bow along with her title.
“Well Lady Black, what would you have of me?” V asked, voice laden with suspicion. Though she preferred to seek her own bounties, a requisition from the King was sure to bring decent coin.
As they began to discuss business, Jess took a seat next to Veronica and spoke vaguely. “Our ruler would have you retrieve a package for him, for a hefty reward.” When the mage said nothing, she continued, “I cannot divulge the details- but you will find what you need in the hamlet of Fall’s End with a cleric named Jerome.”
“Am I expected to go forward with such little information?” She shook her head in disbelief, finally finishing her drink.
“You are expected to do as our ruler bids! I have told you all I know.”
Veronica’s brow furrowed as she probed, “Surely his majesty has sent some sort of incentive, if it is truly he who sent you!”
Jess sighed heavily, producing a leather pouch from the folds of her cape. She set it on the bar with a clink, and V grabbed it immediately. “Gods, there must be nearly forty gold here!” She exclaimed, counting it out quickly.
“Our benefactor has put this forward as a downpayment of sorts, with the promise of more once he’s gotten his package. On the condition that you leave immediately.” Jess asserted with a nod.
The blonde eyed the gold hungrily- knowing she was on hard times. “Well if my kingdom needs me, who am I to resist the call? Though surely ‘immediately’ could mean ‘first thing in the morn’, with his Highness’s mercy?”
Putting a hand on the pouch of gold, the ravenette shook her head. “I must insist on your departure this night, King Roosevelt wishes for no delay in your meeting with Jerome.”
For a moment Veronica’s gaze shifted from Jess back to the pouch of gold, but she relented with a sigh. “It will take me a moment to prepare myself, and I shall make haste.”
Jess gave a rare smile, acquiescing “Your speed is most appreciated.” She turned to the back wall of the bar then, wondering aloud, “Where is the damn barkeep?”
With their conversation over and coin now heavy in her pocket, V slipped behind the bar to the back office where she’d stashed her travel pack.
Mary May’s office was small but tidy, featuring a large desk and business ledger. Sitting there was Mary herself, counting out coin into the safe next to the desk. Next to the safe was Veronica’s beige backpack, which May let her stash in the office during business hours. Hearing her footsteps, the blonde turned away from her safe to face V. “Ah, come to retrieve your loot without buying a room to store it in first? You must have gotten yourself a job.”
A smile crossed Veronica’s features, showing pearly white teeth. “You know me well friend, I must be off immediately unfortunately, so it would appear you’ll save some ale tonight yet!” She crossed the threshold into the room, leaning over the other to grab her sack.
“My, it must be an illustrious one to cause you to abandon a perfectly good night of drinking!” She chuckled.
This made the blonde stop a moment as she considered telling her friend the details. Thinking better of it, she instead said, “Nothing so fancy! I should be back in a week at the latest, try not to miss me too much!” Giving Mary May a chuckle., Before Veronica was fully out the door, she leaned back to say quickly “And be sure to give your worst service to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar!”
V slung her sack across her back, weaving through Mary May’s drunken customers towards the front door. Once she cleared the room, she turned back one last time and saw Jess staring at her as she departed. The look on her face gave her chills.
The heavy door to the Splayed Eagle Inn opened with a prolonged creak, and gave way to a gust of wind that caused the mage to pull her cloak closer around her. She stepped foot into the deluge outside and hustled into the treeline, taking her first steps towards facing an evil she couldn’t begin to imagine.
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fallingfor-fics · 3 years
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Teachers Pet-chapter 18: legilimens
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chapter 17
It had been a few days now since my last encounter with Snape except in potions class, but we didn't really speak then, I assumed it was because he didn't wanna seem human in front of the other students. It was Monday and I was headed to the Gryffindor common room to meet up with Hermione as usual, I needed to talk to her about my situation.
 I leaned against the wall waiting for her to emerge from the doors. I closed my eyes for a minute thinking about a certain someone, its funny how when you develop these kinds of feelings, that person really does just habitat your brain all day long, I was thinking about Thursday, when our arms brushed, it was like something out of a movie, when the nerd girl drops her books and the popular boy helps her and their hands touch. Except I was a nerd student and he was, Severus. And had no intention of wanting me like I him. I felt so guilty thinking of him this way, but he was just so handsome and strong looking. Like he could just pin me to the wall and run his large rough hands u- "Hey Y/n you ready?" I was snapped out of my daydream, thank merlin, by Hermione. "Hmm yup" I said as we headed to the Great hall. I needed to ask her some advice, but I didn't want anyone overhearing, meaning the boys. "Hermione, I need to talk to you about some things. Can we skip breakfast and go to the library to talk?" I said looking around for any teachers. "Um ok yeah sure, what about?" She said confused as we switched direction to the library. "Well, it's a couple of things, but remember the questions I was asking you about Ron?" I mumbled quietly to her. "Yes, wait, I was right wasn't I? You like someone!" She said a tad too loud for my liking "oh my merlin shhhhh" I said nudging her. "Who?" she whispered as we approached the library. "I'll get to that in a minute." I said as I dragged her to the farthest corner of the Library and we sat down between the aisles of books. "Ok so I asked you those things, because I may...fancy someone." I said mumbling the last part. "Ok who?" she asked excitedly. I rolled my eyes not sure if this was a good idea, I know she's trustworthy, and she's a very good friend, but what if she's repulsed? I let out a breath, "Ok but if I tell you, you swear not to tell anyone and you wont judge me for it?" I said with a worried look on my face. "Oh merlin it's not Neville is it?" she said a almost disgusted look on her face, "Hey I could do a,lot worse than Neville Longbottom!" I said laughing, "but no, it's not Neville.." I looked down fiddling with my fingers. "It's snp" I said, murmuring the last part to where she could barely understand me. "What did you say?" she said looking at me with confused eyes just wanting me to spit it out, "Snerp"  I said still not looking at her. "For merlin's sake who is it Y/n!" she practically yelled, "Its Snape!" I said raising my voice a bit and cupping my mouth for saying louder than expected. She looked taken aback and her mouth was open a tad, "You don't mean Professor Snape?" she said whispering. I just looked away in shame. "Wow" she added. "I know it's horrible isn't it? I'm disgusting, kill me now, spare the world of my wretchedness." I said putting my face in my hands. "Well I'm sure people have liked worse, I mean some girls flirt with Lockhart sometimes, so it's not that bad" she said with an apologetic grin on her face. "Yes that is true" I said looking out the window next to us. "I just, ugh I feel awful, I haven't liked someone in years, and it was just an attraction, but this is like an actual crush, like real feelings. I didnt think it was real at first, but now i've gone full schoolgirl fantasy for him." I said sighing "Ew don't put it that way, But I mean I guess it makes sense" she said shrugging "really?" I asked looking at her, "i mean yeah if you look at it, you spend a lot of time with him and i'm sure those lessons helped you guys grow more comfortable with each other."
I thought for a moment she was definitely right about that, this probably never would have happened if I was good at potions. "Also the other night I went to the astronomy tower at night to..think, and he showed up and he didn't yell or take me back to my dormitory, he stayed and comforted me and talked to me" I said smiling remembering his scent and his kind words.''Well there you go, it definitely makes sense as to why you fancy him, I mean it's still strange he's a teacher and all, but your feelings are invalid." she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Thanks to Hermione, that certainly makes me feel better about it. I think the worst part about it though is that, id never get to have him, and that thought sucks, I mean you liked ron and now you guys are able to be together, but Snapes just a friends." I frowned at the thought, this really was very shitty. "Yeah that does suck, but hey, these things usually work themselves out and before long you probably won't even give him a second thought." I nodded my head in agreement and pondered on that thought for a moment. "Ms. Granger! what are you doing-" a deep voice bellowed from around the corner, I froze and Snape looked just as shocked to see me being the one talking with her. I looked up at him with a worried face and then back at Hermione. "You two should be in the great hall right now!" he added, still using his stern voice, I internally panicked but pulled it together, "Sorry Professor, we were just studying for Potions!" I said lying to hopefully get him to just leave us be. "With no books?" he questioned lifting his brow.  "We were trying to list the recipe for Amortentia off the tops of our heads!" Hermione quickly added. He wasn't buying it and looked at us suspiciously, I made eye contact with him and his face softened a tad as I pleaded at him with my eyes, "Yes well, don't let this happen again, and do not be late to first period!" He stated and turned and walked away briskly, his cape flowing behind. Once he was out of sight I let out a groan "Oh my- Holy Fuckkkkkk'' I said face palming myself. "What if he heard ussssss!" I moaned out. "I'm sure he didn- oh wait.." she said looking at me with worried eyes.I looked at her and my face grew pale "What? what is it?" I said looking around the corner, "There's something I should mention that Harry told me..." she said in a tone that did not lead me to believe it was something good. "What?" I said scared. "Snape is a Legilimens.." she said with furrowed brows. I felt my heart drop and my throat get very dry. "He's a w h a t " I began having a minor episode, freaking out over this newly acquired information, "So you mean to tell me not only did he possible read our minds and hear this whole conversation, but he has also been knowing what goes through my mind when I'm with him in lessons and in class. AND in the astronomy tower?!" I began to breathe faster, "Well the good thing is most of the time you would know if he was in your head, at least that what harry said, but since Snape is a very skilled legilimens, that might not always be the case.." I couldn't believe what I was hearing, I mean what if he knows, and he's known this whole time, and that's why he wasn't the same after the night in the tower.
I learned all about Legilimency and Occlumency but I had never practiced either of them before. This just meant I was gonna have too. The bell rang and we both looked up, "Well we better get going." she said and I nodded. "I'll see you at lunch" I said speeding off to my first period. I couldn't focus in any of my classes. All I could think of was the idea that Severus was aware of my feelings and was going to resent me because of them. Before I knew it it was lunch, but I had decided, I was gonna learn Occlumency and Legilimency, and I was gonna learn from the best. I hurried to the great hall to grab a sandwich and then headed to Snape's classroom. I took a bite of my sandwich thinking of the best way to approach this, I needed to act the part, like i'm really capable of this and not the tiniest bit afraid, I kept my head high and knocked on his door, it wasn't a day for our lessons, but this couldn't wait. There was no answer, but I knew he wasn't in the great hall. I knocked again still nothing, I waited a few more minutes and decided to just walk in, I mean we were friends-ish so it couldn't be that big of a deal. I slowly turned the knob and peeked my head in, he wasn't in here, I went and sat my things down and looked around the room. I walked over to the storage closet and sure enough I saw the potions professor collecting vials. I wonder why he didn't answer when I knocked, or when I walked in. "Professor?" I said lightly to not frighten him. "Ms. L/n what makes you think that you can just waltz into any room of your choosing when someone does not answer your knocks?" he said not turning around. Keep your game face on Y/n. "Well I needed to ask you something and I was prepared to wait." I said crossing my arms. "What is it this time Y/n?" he asked in a dreadful tone turning to look at me and walk out of the closet, setting the vials down on a table in the front of the room, most likely preparing to brew Amortentia in our classes. "Well a little bird told me that you happen to be a very skilled Legilimens, and I would like you to teach me Legilimency and Occlumency." I said with confidence and a hand on my hip, letting him know I didn't come to play.
"Would this little bird happen to be named Granger" he said giving me a look. "Classified, but will you do it?" I said looking at him in the eyes trying to be as convincing as possible. "No" he said with no hesitation. "What!? Why not?" I said frowning, my hands dropping to my sides. "Because you don't need such skills." he said, not paying me any attention focusing on setting up still. I walked over and put my hand on the table in his way of setting the vial down. He looked down at me with an annoyed face. "What if I come across a death eater or something and I need to defend my thoughts!" I said looking up in his eyes. "Do you have knowledge a death eater may need Ms. L/n?" he said raising his brow, I looked to the side for a minute, "Well, no, but what about in the future say I run into The dark lord himself , and he takes me because i'm the headmasters goddaughter and he thinks I have information and I have no way to protect myself." I said my begging e/c eyes looking into his, now angry, black ones. "You are such a petulant child" he said moving my hand from the spot on the table. I felt a shock run through my hand and butterflies swarmed my stomach, I looked at his hand holding mine and smiled a tad. His felt just as I imagined and was so large compared to mine, I thought back to my day dreaming this morning, til he dropped mine to put the vial in its place. "Please please please! If you say no i'll just keep asking!" I said in a begging motion. "I'll do anything please Sir" I said, giving him my best act. He let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes, "You relentless little girl are going to be what kills me." he said in an annoyed and sarcastic tone. "Is that a yessss" I said wiggling my brows. "Fine but you must return my book to its place at once." he said and I froze up eyes wide and mouth agape. "How did you.." he smirked "Like you said Y/n Im a very skilled Legilimens." "Professor, I just wanted to read it and I was gonna ask you about it anyways I'm so sorry" I said not looking at him. "That's alright but hand it over" he said holding his hand out, I went to my bag and grabbed the book handing it to him, "Oh wait," I said grabbing it from him and tapping my wand to it, muttering the translation spell back to Latin, and handing it back to him. "You know if you had just asked I would have translated it for you." he said using his wand to put it back in its place on the shelf. "I did want to ask, do you know who left the flower in it and who wrote in it?" I said looking back at him.  
He paused for a moment thinking as if he didn't realize they were left in there, "Some boy many years ago I believe, no ones picked it up since" he said turning to shuffle some papers on his desk, I guess he thinks i'm completely clueless, but I wasn't going to make an accusations after he just agreed to give me more lessons on top of the potions ones. "So when should we meet for these lessons?" I said walking to his desk and smiling at him. "Hows after dinner Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays?" I wanted to get as much time in with him as possible, but now I had to really watch what I thought around him, which was gonna be hard, how does one stop thinking? "I cant Wednesdays I have staff meetings but fine." he said really not happy I was basically forcing him to do this. "Great! Sounds splendid. I can't wait! Thanks so much again Professor, I will leave you to it and see you in class!" I said grabbing my things and practically skipping off to my next class. I hoped this would go well, but I needed it too, not only was I going to get to spend more time with him, but I was gonna be able to learn to keep him from my thoughts and feelings, that just meant i'd need to be extra careful around him about what I think, I mean I don't know for sure if he's invaded the certain parts of my mind that would reveal my feelings, but I didn't want to take chances.
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veneli · 2 years
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2, 4, 5, 10 from the Romanticised asks?
Heyy! Thanks for the ask! You asked, so I shall deliver (sorry it's not same-day shipping though :p (it's been like a week and I wanted to be genuine with my responses))
2. if someone were to catch Hanahaki disease for you, what flowers would they cough up? Nice question... a hard one. I would like to say they'd be a combination of my favourite flowers - which would be roses, chrysanthemums, or Barbeton Daisies. (I know, painful, I'm sorry to whoever loves me) and their favourite flowers. Plus a splash of Forget-me-nots or baby's breath to accent the flowers? Gotta make it pretty even though it hurts. Smile through the pain growing in your chest, y'know?
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4. tell us about your ideal battle outfit. (inhales) outfit design. one of my favourite pastimes other than baking.
My Ideal battle outfit would consist of: an armored chest plate, knee protectors (I have shitty kneecaps) and probably a pen behind my ear. I am not one to go onto the battlefield as I am not physically inclined nor willing to, and I'd rather stay behind the scenes to plan and strategize.
If we're including magic in this since it's fantasy, let's go with the most well-rounded OC I have (in terms of magic), the Freelancer! I would learn long distant fighting so I can have more range, and with that I'd need protection against the elements and energetics. Heatproof, electricity conducting material for the entire outfit. Concentrated wiring at fingertips for maximum electro output; Dark fabric to help with absorbing and creating heat; Rip-resilient fabric for Earth and porous weave for easy water control. Amplifier at the throat for Sonal output, thickened soles for Graviton output, thing flexible wires weaved into the fabric for max. Magneto out/input. A black bodysuit that curls up the neck and over the ears and nose, with removable gloves and shoe components, accented with holographic fabric foil. Plus a thigh strap with a dagger for melee if that ever came to be the case! An earpiece to coordinate with teammates, last resort su1c1de pill near the shoulder (hunger games reference)
Something like this, maybe? Suit-like, fancy but nothing too extravagant? (source)
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(or just ignore everything I described above and have this. Silver accents, gloves, PURPLE GLITTERY LINING, Capes for funsies and heels for stabbing and kicking >:D) (source)
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5. what would you be a god/goddess of and what would people sacrifice to you? (okay, so I actually didn't know what I would be so I took personality tests and the majority of them said Zeus and based on my birthday, also Hades) I' not quite sure how sacrifices work I'd say I would be a God of Strength, though. Not physical strength, but mental strength. I’d think I’m a pretty mentally and emotionally stable person, and I’m a support for most of my friends. As for sacrifices—cookies. Chocolate chip cookies. I’m like the coin slot in an arcade game and chocolate cookies are how you get me to start. No sacrificing humans or animals or whatever, that’s unnecessary. Heck, even just burn the ingredients and I’ll make the cookies myself and give them to the people who pray to me for mental strength as a bonus.
(I promise cookies make everything better)
10. describe yourself as if you were a storm. (whoops this got a little long)
A tall, towering cumulonimbus cloud hovered over the horizon, grey and drab. The atmosphere was alight and crackling with the static it emits from within, lightning strikes having not found a spot on the ground to bury itself into. The city underneath was aware of it's existence, since the weather forecast had predicted its arrival in a few day's time last week. People scrambled to find cover as the first fleet of cool rainwater begins to fall, a light showering of its collection of ocean and lake water bestowed upon this city, washing away months worth of unbearable heat and warmth with the winds it brought along. The sidewalks were mostly empty now, as the water begins to fall in earnest. It was safe. It could strike. The energy pent up in the cloud charged, electrons finding a way to escape and finding the nearest, tallest building - the penthouse of the Academy's library to lead it into the ground, where the earth would save and disperse its energy. The sky crackled with electricity, and a bold, neon purple streak found it's way to the lightning rod, splitting the sky into daylight. Electro energetics in the building felt their energy surge, threads tugging on their Cores to release the magic, eager to be drawn to where their element found home. The cloud sighed, its pent up energy finally relieved. The trees bowed in the darkness, their leaves whispering in harmony with the percussion of rain on hot pavement. People closed their windows, perching behind the panes of glass with the lights turned off in hopes of another light show. However, they would soon be a little disappointed to know that the cloud was tired. A few more crackles of static, and another bout of rain that would last all night, and fade away into a few thin wisps by morning, leaving the city refreshed to start a new week. The cloud would be back, soon. But not soon enough, for the sweltering temperatures of the city.
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averykedavra · 4 years
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Someday I’ll Get There
I’m back and I bring fluff! Should have known I couldn’t stick to an update schedule. I’ll try to catch up soon enough. And why are all my soulmates in the same town/city? Because I said so. And according to the rules of probability, in a soulmate universe it would be highly unlikely for two soulmates to ever meet. So suspension of disbelief suspends, we all turn a blind eye to the ramifications, cue story.
(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title is from Stranger Things by Kygo. You can read this fic on Ao3 here.)
Prompt: You have an animal that only you and your soulmates can see.

Pairing: Platonic Royaliceit. (I headcanon that it became a QPR eventually, but right now, all platonic.)
Words: 13,364
Warnings: death mention, animal injury, crying
The dog always visits Roman in the morning.
Roman’s tried to stay up all night and see just when the dog actually gets there. He fell asleep halfway through. Roman’s locked all the doors in the house to see if that would keep it out--not that he wants the dog gone, he’s just curious, since it seems to bypass any and all locks in the house. All he can figure is that just a bit before sunrise, it wiggles through Roman’s window or something and curls at the foot of his bed, a steady little weight that makes Roman smile when he wakes up.
It’s a cute dog. It has one floppy ear and a spotted coat and likes to chase sunbeams. It bounces around after him every morning and sits on his feet if he pauses for too long. Roman can carry the dog easily enough. It’s a little thing. He feeds it every morning, but it never gets any bigger--maybe it’s just meant to be this small.
He’d ask his parents, but his parents can’t see the dog. Nobody can.
It’s just for Roman.
Roman...and his soulmate.
That must be where the dog goes for the rest of the day, Roman’s pieced together, and he wonders if it looks the same for them. If it acts the same for them. Maybe it represents their bond together--perhaps his soulmate or soulmates are puppylike in nature, or enjoy rising with the sun, or are exceedingly sneaky. Roman knows such ideas can’t be confirmed, but he still enjoys them, imagining his soulmate is with him as well as the dog.
He names the dog a new name every day. He’s tried R2-D2, but numbers weren’t a nice name for a dog. He’s tried Iago, which really wasn’t fair to the magnificent creature, and Dug, which was a good dog but a bad name. He cycled through all of Cinderella’s mice and Rapunzel’s chameleon for good measure, before realizing that naming a dog after mice or chameleons is a cruel and unusual punishment for said dog.
Although who knows if the dog even knows its name? Roman fancies it does. He fancies it knows a lot more than it lets on, eyes bright and tail wagging and following him around at his heels.
He fancies it will lead him to his soulmate one day.
Roman has big dreams for his soulmates. Perhaps that’s unhealthy, but he can hardly help it--they fill his fantasies and his wishes, faceless and nameless but right. They’re people meant for him, people who will make him better and who he will make better in return, perhaps friends or companions or lovers. Although Roman must admit he’s not too interested in the last one--romance is lovely, but he prefers reading or writing it than experiencing it.
He writes stories a lot.
His soulmates crop up sometimes, despite the fact that he knows nothing of their personalities. Sometimes he places them in the tower and rescues them with a flaming sword or a flaming shield or a flaming axe. Sometimes they’re his sidekicks, battling dragons and cracking jokes and falling in love in the meantime. Sometimes, when he’s in an especially sour mood, he casts himself as the villain. His soulmate redeems him. Or they destroy his kingdom and find their own true love, leaving Roman alone, in a crumbled castle with a shattered crown.
He always tears up those stories as soon as he finishes.
But his soulmates still bubble up to the surface again, always on his mind, a lurking itch in the back of his heart that tells him one day he’ll find them. One day they won’t be vague dreams and soft smiles but real people, concrete and solid and flawed. Roman doesn’t do well with reality. Why linger in mundanity when flights of fancy are so much more entertaining?
He loves his soulmates already.
Well, he loves the idea of them. He loves the dreams they fill his head with, dreams of faraway mountains and deep seas, adventuring across the world with his love or loves by his side. Castles glittering under orange skies, a million people to meet and know, snow-white mountains and pearly lakes, that’s what Roman pictures every day. He’s seen pictures. He’s heard stories. He’s written quite a few stories himself.
And someday, he’ll get there, and he’ll see it all.
For now, he wakes every morning to the dog at the foot of his bed. He just calls it the dog, because no name seemed to fit it. He hasn’t given up, though. He keeps a list of possible names tacked to the corkboard over his desk. Roman is hardly the type to give up on anything--he’ll find the right name someday, but for now, it’s just the dog.
In some ways, Roman is a lover of routine. Not for the important things, of course--a routine adventure would be dreadfully dull--but for small thing, lesser things, such as sleep and food. Roman always sets his alarm clock for six-thirty, slaps it to make it shut up, and sleeps in until seven. Then the dog nibbles his foot pointedly and he sighs and gets up. It’s almost always light by seven, except in the depths of winter, when he has to stumble across the carpet and turn on the light. He almost always trips over something on the floor. Cleaning his room is boring and tedious and although doing such good deeds is heroic, since nobody ever comes into his room, it doesn’t matter in the slightest.
That’s what he tells his parents. For some reason, they’ve never seen the logic in that. But Roman is a good actor and can get away with promising he’ll “do it later” and letting later become sometime next fall.
It’s spring now. Outside his window is the biggest tree in the yard, a dogwood, and it’s fluttering with white blossoms. He throws open his window and grins at it. The dog hops up to the window ledge and sniffs the air. A deep blue sky and a cool breeze around the curtains. It’ll be a good day.
“Good morning,” Roman calls out to the dogwood tree. As always, he holds out a vague hope that someone will respond. Perhaps singing birds, or a wizard here to send him on a quest. He waits a few seconds longer, staring over the shingled roofs and watching a lone car speed down the street. In the distance, someone’s dog is barking. Roman’s dog cowers a bit.
“Don’t worry, they can’t see you,” Roman says, grinning and ruffling the dog’s ears. The dog doesn’t have a collar like all the others do. He supposes that’s because very technically, he doesn’t exist. At least not legally. That’s a weird thing to think about--that this dog, so soft under his fingers, is only for Roman.
That should make Roman feel special. And it does, a bit. But he wishes there was someone else there to appreciate how wonderful the dog is.
He wishes for his soulmates.
And he’s only been up five minutes. Wonderful. Perhaps this day won’t be so good after all.
Roman gives the scene outside his window one more cursory sweep for dragons--the neighbor across the way is watering his tulips and a newspaper sits damp in Roman’s lawn. The sun sits low under someone’s chimney, and Roman sighs under the light.
No dragons. Suburbia is highly disappointing.
He leaves the window open for fresh air as he scampers over to his dresser, the dog following at his heels. His dresser has two drawers--school clothes and home clothes. Roman opens the school one and pulls out his uniform. He gives a long sigh and regretfully takes off his Toy Story pajamas. It takes him two tries to button up his shirt, since he accidentally matches the wrong button with the wrong hole and has to start all over again.
He pulls on his pants--they’re creased in all the wrong ways, so he shimmies them until they feel a bit less stiff--and yanks on some black socks. Black socks never get dirty, as they say, and he’s pretty sure he hasn’t washed these in weeks. Well, nobody will be looking too closely at his socks. He slips on his sneakers, the ones with the dark laces and not the ones with the light-up soles, because school apparently doesn’t like light-up soles.
It’s a good school. Roman should be grateful for the chance to attend. He’s heard that exact phrase a million times.
He hates it.
For one thing, it makes it sound like they’re doing him a favor by letting him attend. Instead of the truth, which is that Roman studied hard for the entrance exam and flipping nailed it. For another, just because it’s a good school and might actually get him into college--he’d be the first in his family--doesn’t mean he has to like every aspect of it. He doesn’t. His chemistry teacher is a jerk and he only has one friend and he really, really hates the uniform.
If they’re going to give everyone a uniform, Roman would at least prefer a fancy one. Perhaps a long sweeping cape, or a knight’s armor, or woven sashes and glimmering gold along the sleeves. Instead, he has to wear an ugly maroon shirt with black pants and the school crest emblazoned on every spare bit of cloth they have. Then a jacket over top--Roman usually ties it around his waist, although his aforementioned jerk of a chemistry teacher always tries to give him detention for it. Then a tie around his neck, then his sneakers, then his school bag that looks like a purse.
It’s been seven months. He still fumbles with his tie. The dog sits on the dresser and watches as Roman struggles to knot it. Roman sticks out his tongue at the dog. Who is it to judge him?
He adjusts the tie and looks at himself in the mirror. He tries to flatten a bit of his hair in the back. No success. Roman grabs his hairbrush and slashes angrily at the offending hair tuft until it finally sinks down in defeat. He needs a haircut, his mom said yesterday, but the scruffy edges of his hair fits in with the general scruffiness of the rest of him. If Roman tried, he could probably look more polished, but he has higher priorities.
As it stands, his jacket is too square around his shoulders and his tie is still lopsided. He looks like a kid in grownup clothes. None of the sizes fit him exactly, because every bit of him is growing at a different rate, and hopefully when he’s no longer twelve but perhaps sixteen, he’ll look less like a wayward schoolboy and more like the adventurous prince he’s destined to be.
A short bark from the dog. It has a nice bark, low and sweet, and it never barks for too long. Nobody can hear the dog, either. Roman's tested it.
Roman looks around at the dog, who’s now curled up by his school bag. The clock tells him it’s almost seven twenty already.
He’s running late. Of course he is.
“Thanks, fair companion!” Roman says to the dog, who wags its tail. "I’ll hurry this up, then. Ready?”
The dog wags its tail again. It’s a stubby little tail with a little piece taken out of the edge. Roman loves it.
He wonders if his soulmate loves the dog as much as he does.
He hopes so, otherwise they might be not that great, after all.
Roman’s mom calls from downstairs. He’s late. She shouldn’t be surprised, but she’ll probably still give him a glare. It’s fine. He’ll just bring his breakfast in the car with him.
“Be there in a second!” Roman yells back down. He hurriedly rifles through his papers and extracts the letter folded in the front pocket of his backpack. He’d scribbled it down during English when he was supposed to be practicing dialogue.
Every day, he wrote a letter.
No days did he receive a response.
But he kept trying, because Roman was persistent, and Roman felt it was his one connection to his soulmate. A fragile thread of connection. All they had was this dog and connected souls, so he’d just have to keep throwing words into the silence, calls to adventure that maybe--one day--would be answered.
It may have been futile. It may have been hopeless. But it reminded Roman that they were still there--maybe they didn’t like him maybe they didn’t need him maybe they would leave him behind--and still there meant still possibly, unbelievably, hopefully his.
Roman is twelve and the future is filled with promise.
He folds up the letter into a little heart, hands it to the dog, and pats it on the head. The dog takes the letter in its mouth. Roman laughs at it because it looks kind of ridiculous, pulls on his shoes, and throws open the door.
Down the stairs, grab a granola bar and a yogurt cup, wave at his little brother, make sure his backpack is filled with all his homework from last night, out into the yard he should have mowed yesterday and past the mailbox and into the minivan.
He buckles up. His mom gives him the usual glare and Roman shrugs sheepishly, already spooning yogurt into his mouth. She sighs, adjusts the mirror and pulls out of the driveway.
The dog sits on the stoop, letter in its mouth, and Roman waves goodbye, feeling his stomach sink as it grows farther away.
He tells himself this time, he won’t look away. Then he spills a little bit of yogurt on his knees, looks down to wipe it off, and when he looks back up, the dog is gone.
---
The dog always visits Janus in the afternoon.
Janus, for his part, has timed the ridiculous little thing. It always wriggles under the fence, slips through the cat flap and gets a hiss from the cat, and flops on top of Janus’ work at about two-thirty precisely. Then it leaves at around five or six, depending on whether Janus feeds it. Janus always does, because he can’t allow the stupid thing to starve, can he?
Who knows what the mangy mutt gets up to in the meantime. Janus assumes it’s visiting his other soulmate, the one who sends him the letters. A little bit rude of the dog to spend so much time with Janus’ soulmate and not that much with him.
Not that Janus cares or anything.
Still, he will admit that he enjoys it when he sees the dog on his homework. It gives him an excuse to yell “Going out” and put away his stuff. His dads have learned to let him go. He does the rest of his schoolwork later, always, and getting between Janus and something he wants is a fool’s errand.
Janus may be twelve, but he knows exactly what he wants.
This afternoon is an achingly blue one, and Janus has to apply all his concentration to finish up his history. Then he drops his paragraph on synonyms in front of Weather Dad’s door.
He has three dads and, early on, decided to differentiate them with nicknames. Weather Dad, because he has a tendency to predict when a storm will happen three days ahead of time, and because he has a stormcloud tattoo on his arm. Coffee Dad, because he always smells like coffee and has been trying to get Janus to work the espresso machine every morning. Janus has resisted. And Glasses Dad, because he’s a hopeless nerd.
He hates all of them, of course, but he hates them slightly less than he hates the rest of the world. So it’s not really that bad at all. Glasses Dad is a good teacher and Weather Dad helps him with makeup sometimes.
And they understand there are some things Janus doesn’t like talking about. Like his soulmate.
His soulmate is personal.
Janus snorts when the dog sits on his math problems and refuses to move. “Ugh. You’re back.”
The dog tilts its head.
“Get off that, you’ll ruin it.” Janus pulls the paper out from under the dog and cups his hands around his mouth. “Dads! I’m going outside!”
A muffled “Cool” from Coffee Dad. “Be back soon” from Glasses Dad. “Don’t die” from Weather Dad.
Janus is all set to go.
He shoves his work into a big plastic bin and kicks it into the corner of the kitchen. He sprays on some bug repellent--it’s spring, so the mosquitoes aren’t quite as prevalent, but ticks are still a concern. He slips into his sandals, grabs a sunhat, and ties it over his hair. His bushy ginger ponytail barely fits under it. A box of band-aids in his pocket, a slingshot in case he meets something he doesn’t want to meet, and of course that stupid dog.
“I don’t need you to come,” Janus tells it, like he always does. “Go away.”
As it always does, the dog is undeterred. Maybe it doesn’t understand English. It probably doesn’t. Janus is being ridiculous for even entertaining the damn thing. He kicks at it teasingly and it butts him in the leg.
“Fine, you win,” Janus says, making a show of being beleagered. He’s not.
Exploring wouldn’t be the same without the dog there.
The door creaks as he tugs it open, scampering down past the vegetable garden, slipping into the trees.
He knows this forest like the back of his hand. Well, he doesn’t know the back of his hand that well, aside from it being freckled like the rest of him--so he knows it like the spots on the dog’s back. He knows it like the sun in the sky. He’s been running through here for years, finding every path he knows, committing each leaf to memory.
For instance, he knows that if he turns left at this tree right here, he reaches a huge fallen log over a small stream.
Janus turns left and sits on the log, swinging his legs over the stream, reaching a hand to the dog. It gambols happily over to him and snuggles into his side, dropping a piece of paper in his lap.
It’s folded into a heart.
Janus rolls his eyes and snorts. Ridiculous. His soulmate is utterly ridiculous.
He’s opened the letter before he even thinks about it.
This one is on notebook paper, and there are scribbled notes in the corners. Janus focuses on the little paragraph in the center. It’s in sparkly red ink. Of course it is.
Over the years, he’s learned three things about his soulmate: he’s a he and his name is Roman, he’s ridiculously dramatic, and he really, really wants Janus to write back.
Oh, and he can’t spell.
Derest soulmate(s), says this one, how are you on this fine day? I have school and theter practice after it. I’m studying for a test next week and I really hope I pass, but the curuculum is very hard and I have better things to do than sit and do homwork all day. I wrote a story about a princes saving a night and maybe I’ll send it to you tomorow. I hope your doing fabulusly. Write back if you want, I would love to here from you.
<3 Roman
Janus reads it again. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.
So why does it make him blush?
Janus sighs and turns the letter over, scrubbing at his cheeks. The dog gives him a knowing look.
“I’ll shove you into the water,” Janus tells it.
It whines and buries itself in his shirt.
“Don’t be a coward,” Janus teases, grabbing the little thing, “it’s just water. See, I’ll dip you in it, and you can swim! Doggy paddle is a thing for a reason, right?”
The dog whines again. But its tail is wagging, and it knows Janus is kidding as much as Janus does.
Still, Janus takes pity on it. He pats it on the head and lets it scurry back to safety on the log. Then he turns back to the letter and reads it over and over again.
Roman.
Roman, his dramatic, ridiculous soulmate.
Janus turns the paper over. The back is blank. If he wished, he could write something back, give his soulmate a few words in exchange for the hundreds he’s received.
Janus sighs.
The wind blows around him. The forest is beautiful this time of year. Violets sprinkle the ground in shades of purple and white, the branches are bowed low with fresh buds, the grass is still hesitant and bright green and soft under his fingers. Soon the first strawberries will come, and the heat, and the long summer afternoons where cicadas buzz in the distance and Janus sits on the swing with lemonade and lets the warmth sink into his bones.
For now, it’s spring, and the forest is filled with possibility.
The dog is already waggling his tail.
He doesn’t have time.
He doesn’t have time to write back, to agonize over the right words to say. He has homework. He has chores. He has a forest at his fingertips. There are trees to climb and hills to climb and rocks to climb. He wants to get as high up as he can, before the sun goes down, and tomorrow he’ll do the same.
He doesn’t have time for his soulmate.
There are so many things he wants to see, to do, to touch. Janus wants so much and it frustrates him how much of it is out of reach.
Besides, his soulmate is ridiculous, and Janus doesn’t like him at all.
He doesn’t like the stupid dog, either.
Weather Dad named the dog “Spot” because he can’t spot it. Coffee Dad named the dog “Invisible Menace” because one time it chewed up his shoes. Glasses Dad just called it “your dog.” As if it was Janus’.
It isn’t.
It belongs to Roman, someone he’s never met, someone with curly red handwriting and terrible spelling and ridiculously huge dreams.
Janus calls the dog “you.” No point in naming it. Roman probably already has.
Roman may be his soulmate, but Roman isn’t important right now. Janus doesn’t want to think about Roman. Janus will have to put up a front and make Roman like him, and making people like him is hard. It took him ages with his dads. People don’t like Janus much in general. He lies too much and his knees are always scraped and he makes fun of people when they laugh at him.
He doesn’t talk to people very much at all anymore. He stays in the woods with his dads and sometimes tags along to get groceries in town, and he stares at everyone when they stare at him, because he knows his endless freckles and red curls and big red birthmark down the side of his face are all noticeable but it doesn’t make it fun to be stared at. People stare at his dads, too, and Janus has to stop himself from punching them.
Janus likes trees better than people.
Trees are simple. You climb them, you bump into them, you sit under them and read a book. Trees don’t judge. Trees aren’t enigmas Janus has to puzzle out, people he has to convince or charm just to get their approval, people who look down on him because he’s small and ginger and freckled and a little bit too skinny and apparently doesn’t know anything about anything.
Trees don’t take it personally when Janus doesn’t want to talk.
Trees don’t mind it when he lies.
Janus folds Roman’s letter in half, then folds the corners in. A few more folds and he has a boat, writing climbing up the sides, red pen against old notebook paper.
He leans down and pushes it off into the stream. It wobbles for a second but gains speed, floating down the current, sinking slowly into the water. The stream tumbles over some rocks up ahead. The boat falls over the waterfall and disappears.
Maybe, Janus entertains, Roman is at the other end, and he’ll receive them. And he’ll understand that Janus is there, listening, not ready to talk yet but still here.
Maybe, someday, Janus will find Roman. He’ll follow the dog back or follow the stream down the hill or just go into town and look around. Roman goes to a private school. Janus could try and find out which one.
Maybe, someday, Janus will look for what he wants and actually get there.
But not today.
Today he climbs the tallest hill, scrambling up the path he’s blazed over the years, that ridiculous dog wagging its tail and following. He pauses to climb a pine tree, getting almost halfway up before the branches thin out and he hears Weather Dad telling him to go back down before he breaks a freaking bone. Although Weather Dad wouldn’t say freaking. He pauses again to chase a crow that yells at him when he gets too close. He calls it some names in response, mostly names that Coffee Dad mutters under his breath and thinks Janus doesn’t hear. Then he makes it to the top of the hill and sits on the peak, a huge tan rock that juts out over the edge, rimmed with pine trees.
The sun is sinking in the sky. He can see the houses patterned below in strips and plaid on the ground, and in the distance, the spires and scrapers of the city. The stone is warm beneath his hands. He sets his hat on his knees and pulls at his ponytail idly. The dog sits next to him.
“You’ll be leaving soon,” Janus tells it. “Hurry up.”
It sniffs at a crack in the rock.
“I’m not feeding you again,” Janus adds. “You’re leeching money from the coffers of this household.”
Glasses Dad said that. Janus was pretty sure it was a joke, and he’s not sure what coffers are, but it makes him sound official so he likes it.
The dog just blinks innocently at him.
“Shut up,” Janus tells it, and sighs. “I don’t want to miss the sunset, but you’ll be going soon, won’t you?”
The dog tilts its head.
Janus looks back at the sun.
Sunsets here are beautiful.
And yes, there’ll be one tomorrow night. But it won’t be exactly the same. Janus wants to see it.
He’s sure Roman can feed the dog extra.
“Go,” Janus says softly, and when he looks up, the dog is gone.
---
The dog always visits Patton at night.
He’s named it Paw-ton. If he ever meets his soulmates, he’ll see if they’ve named it something, and he’ll change the name to whatever they decided. For now, it’s Paw-ton. A cute little ball of fluff. Patton squeals every time he sees him.
Really, it’s not fair that nobody else can. This cuteness deserves to be shared!
He’s tried to help his mom see the dog. He took a photo to show her, he held the dog up so she could touch it. Nothing.
“He’s just yours,” she told Patton, smiling. “Yours and your soulmate’s.”
Patton pouted. That really didn’t seem fair.
“And get him out of the apartment,” she’d added, “the landlord says no pets.”
How the landlord could forbid an invisible dog, Patton didn't know, but he didn’t want an argument.
So Paw-ton isn’t allowed in the apartment.
So every night, after Patton finished washing the dishes, he slips out of the window onto the fire escape. And he waits.
Paw-ton always pops up when he least expects it, somehow getting three stories in the air despite being a teeny weeny pupper with little legs. Patton’s learned not to ask questions. He just lets the dog curl up next to him and he watches the street lights down below.
The city is always loud.
He can hear people talking on the street below. He can hear cars careening through the intersections. He can hear the gentle thrum of a party and the barking of a dog and someone yelling at someone else a few apartments down. He can hear an airplane passing overhead and the rattle of a truck and two different sirens, dipping and weaving around each other, just out of sync.
It’s a cold spring evening. The fire escape is freezing and the iron almost burns his skin. Patton curls tighter around himself and hopes Paw-ton shows up soon.
And he does. He wriggles into Patton’s arms and sits there, a comforting warm weight.
The lights of the city spin around them.
“I had an okay day,” Patton starts off. “Maybe a seven or eight?”
He tells Paw-ton everything. And Paw-ton listens, because Paw-ton is a dog, a dog that nobody else can see.
“How are my soulmates?” Patton asks when he finishes.
As always, Paw-ton just barks once. And Patton takes that as a sign that they’re okay.
He hopes they are.
He hopes they’re happy, and he hopes one day, they’ll be happy with him.
As always, he gets up and pushes Paw-ton away. “Not allowed inside the apartment, sorry.”
Paw-ton whines.
“Go talk to the other soulmates,” Patton says, his heart heavy. “I’m sure they’d like to see you.”
Paw-ton nuzzles his leg and trots to the edge of the fire escape, looking back at Patton. Asking Patton to follow.
Patton could follow, if he wanted.
But it’s a cold spring night and he’s in his stripy pajamas and the world is dizzyingly dark.
And he’s sure his soulmates are fine without him.
Just like he’s fine without them.
Completely fine.
“Go on,” Patton encourages.
The dog gives him one long look before walking down the fire escape.
One day, maybe, Patton will be desperate enough to follow him. And he’ll find someone in this city who listens, who isn’t just another voice in the rush of noise around him, waves pulling him under.
One day.
Someday.
But not today.
It sucks to be alone. It sucks even more to be surrounded by people and still alone, to be twelve and small and drowning in his pajamas and suffocating in the noise.
But someone else is supposed to fix that. And Patton doesn’t think he could bear it if they tried and failed. If the universe took away the one bit of hope he has left.
Right now, he can dream. He can dream of late nights and rainy afternoons and baked dinners and fun games. He can dream that his soulmate will be by his side.
That’s safe. That’s safer than finding out that they aren’t. That hurts less than being alone--because there’s still hope that someday, one day, he’ll get to where they are.
And he’ll have someone by his side, sitting on the fire escape, watching the lights.
Patton climbs back through the window, closes it, and doesn’t look back.
---
Roman fails his test.
Not even a small, microscopic kind of fail, the kind of fail that could almost be considered a success. It was a huge, gigantic, epic fail. Red slashes over all the questions kind of fail. Murmured conversations upstairs kind of fail. Disappointed looks from his teacher, his parents once they got done murmuring, and his own face when he looked in the mirror.
He thought he could do it. Then he spent the night working on a story about two dueling mages instead of studying.
And he failed.
And he knows it’s not the end of the world, but he also knows everyone will use this as an excuse to get him to write less and study more, to say how precarious his position at the school is, and that if he wants to make his family proud, he’ll need to try harder.
Roman does try. He does. He gets how important this is. It’s just sometimes, his brain won’t focus on the right things, and he’d much rather think up new stories than stare at a textbook. School’s boring, and he doesn’t get why that’s his fault.
He fakes sick sometimes to sit in the nurse’s office for twenty minutes and scribble in his notebook while she gives him some water. Nobody likes that. But Roman never misses anything much, and the time limit makes his brain kick into overdrive.
He sneaks food into classes sometimes because he likes to eat and work at the same time, and he’s always hungry. Nobody likes that. But Roman always cleans up after himself and it never goes too wrong.
He lies about his soulmates sometimes. He pretends he’s met them, because some kids in his class already have, talking about snakes that led them to their matches or ravens that flew down from the sky and pushed them forward, and Roman doesn’t want to be left out. Nobody likes that. The teachers called home after the third time.
He’s living in a fantasy world where there aren’t any consequences, one of his teachers said, and we can’t get him to wake up.
Of course he is.
Fantasy is ten times better than reality.
Roman figures his soulmates would get it, if he told them. His soulmates would take his side. They’d understand and they’d actually listen to him instead of assuming they knew best.
They’d find him and they’d understand.
The dog shows up on Sunday morning and Roman glares at it, turning over and trying to sleep.
A little nip on his foot.
“Fine, I’m up, I’m up!” Roman rolls out of bed. It’s a cloudy day. Maybe it’ll rain later--he hopes so. It’d match his mood.
“We’re going outside,” he tells the dog as he gets up and throws on a red t-shirt and black jeans. Usually, he’d be ecstatic about the weekend--it’s free time, and he gets to wear his own clothes. Right now, he can’t muster up the excitement. “I’m going to get out of this dreadfully dreary domicile if it’s the last thing I do.”
The dog tilts its head.
“Are you coming?” Roman snaps. “Or are you going to make me do this on my own like everyone else?”
He stomps over to the door, not waiting for an answer. He grabs his jacket, pulls it around his shoulders, and slips into the hall. Much as he’d like to keep stomping around, he doesn’t want to disturb his parents. They’d probably tell him he should be studying.
He probably should be studying.
Roman walks down the hall, slides down the banister of the stairs, and jumps towards the front door. He kicks it open. The street is already busy with cars, someone peddling past on their bicycle, a few dog walkers idling by the bushes.
It’s a grey day, and Roman feels miserable, and the best thing to do is to head down the road to the playground and sit and feel miserable there.
He closes the door, looks down, and sees the dog sitting on the stoop like it’s been there all along.
“That is majorly spooky,” Roman says, striding down the walk. The dog doesn’t follow. It sits there, tilting its head, looking back at the door.
“What?” Roman asks.
A short bark.
“I won’t be gone long,” Roman says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic, little pup, it’s merely a walk to clear my head.”
The dog paws at the door.
“Don’t--” Roman moves to stop it. “Right. You’re imaginary. Never mind, I suppose you can knock yourself out. See you soon.”
He turns sharply on his heel and continues marching to the sidewalk. When he glances back, the dog is trotting down the stares to follow him.
“Hey, go,” Roman says, backing away. “I told you to stop bugging me, I’m not going to tell my parents where I’m going--”
The dog sidles up to him and rubs against his legs.
“I suppose I’m stuck with you, aren’t I?” Roman sighs. “Er--thank you, I appreciate it.”
He sets off, the dog by his side.
He vaguely hoped that the fresh air would make him feel better. It doesn’t. With every step, he just feels more terrible, throat and eyes burning and stomach twisted up in hardened little knots. He presses his lips together. People are all around him and he can’t start sobbing on a sidewalk, he’ll look like an idiot.
Roman wraps his arms around himself.
The dog trots next to him, looking perfectly pleased. Roman wonders if he should have put it on a leash. He doesn’t have a leash and the dog doesn’t have a collar to attach it to. Maybe he should get it a collar. It would certainly make it easier to keep messages secure--
Messages.
Oh. He’d forgotten to write a letter to his soulmate.
Roman stops dead. Much as he feels terrible about it, he can’t do anything now unless he goes back home and gets a pen--
He doesn’t want to go back home yet.
And who cares if his soulmate gets a letter anyway? Clearly not them, or they’d have written back by now.
Roman kicks the sidewalk. It’s satisfying. He kicks it again.
Stupid soulmates. Stupid test. Stupid stories. Stupid neighborhood with no dragons. Stupid school. Stupid teachers. Stupid soulmates who didn’t even bother to write him back.
The dog lowers its head, like it can hear what Roman’s thinking.
Stupid dog.
Roman hates the dog. He hates his soulmates. He hates every letter he’s written. He hates school, he hates his family, he hates everything in the whole wide world, castles and mountains and lakes he’ll never get to see--
He’s reached the crosswalk. He slams his fist into the button, and the light turns green. He scurries across it. The dog waits at the sidewalk.
Still wanting him to turn around.
Stupid dog!
“Leave me alone,” Roman yells at it. “They don’t want me, I don’t want them, leave me alone--”
The dog starts to trot towards him.
Roman walks to the other side of the street.
The dog follows, six feet behind.
Roman turns away, intent on getting to the playground and ignoring the stupid dog for the rest of ever, hands deep in his pockets.
A sickening thump.
Roman turns back around.
A bicycle careens to the side of the road and rights itself. And the dog, Roman’s stupid little soulmate dog, is crumpled in its wake.
Roman doesn’t even think. He runs over and scoops it up in his arms. It’s light, too light, and breathing, but its leg is twisted and bleeding a little.
A car honks.
Roman’s standing in the middle of the road. Crap. He gives the cars a sheepish wave and runs off the road onto the sidewalk. He sits down in someone’s yard, hoping they won’t be mad, and sets the dog by his feet. It’s shaking. It’s so small on the grass and it’s shaking, and Roman doesn’t know what to do, nobody else can see what he sees and what happens if a soulmate animal dies--
It’s almost the end of the morning, he realizes wildly. He’s running out of time. The dog will leave and it’s hurt and who knows if his other soulmates can help.
The dog whines when Roman touches it.
“Are you okay?” Roman asks. He knows it can’t answer, and it doesn’t. But it does try to stagger to its feet.
“Hey, hey, easy.” Roman catches the little dog and tries to steady it. “Your leg’s hurt, you shouldn’t be--”
“Roman!”
Roman looks up. His mom is running towards him, face set in a combination of fury and worry.
Crap.
“I’m busy!” Roman yells back.
“You just left!” she yells in return. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been, this behavior is unacceptable, get over here immediately--”
“But--”
Roman looks back at the dog, to see if he can explain, and he knows she can’t see the dog because it’s a soulmate thing--and he just ruined it, he ruined it, he hurt the dog and now his soulmates will be mad--but if he tries, maybe she’ll understand, they can help it and fix it and everything will be okay--
The dog is gone.
He looks all around at the yard. A few shriveled daffodils and some grass. No dog.
It left. It left because Roman hurt it and it didn’t want to be here anymore.
“Roman!” his mom exclaims. “Are you alright?”
Roman looks up and starts to cry.
---
Janus has finished his homework, and the dog isn’t here.
He looks through it, wondering if there’s something he’s forgotten to do. No, he’s finished every assignment. That’s strange. He usually times this right--his work must have been easy.
He glances at the clock.
No, it wasn’t.
The dog is late.
Janus bites his lip and for a brief second, he’s flooded with worry.
But this is fine. It’s probably just busy, is all. Besides, he doesn’t need the stupid mongrel anyway. It’s just a dog.
Janus shifts around his homework. He pulls out a sheet of extra problems, which he normally wouldn’t touch, and starts filling them out. His pencil scratches against the paper and the kitchen is silent.
He doesn’t like this.
He finishes the extra problems, double-checks his work, and the dog isn’t here.
Janus groans at himself. So what? His day isn’t destroyed because the dog didn’t show up. He can still do everything he wants to do. In fact, he’s wasting time just sitting at the table. The forest is right outside and begging to be explored.
He sits there for a few moments longer.
The kitchen is empty.
Janus stands up and pushes aside his things more harshly than necessary. “I’m going out,” he calls, and he wonders if his dads can hear the waver in his voice.
He doesn’t wait for their reply.
He pushes the door open. It bangs against the wall of the house and slams back into place. He strides out into the yard, hair flying behind him. He’s forgotten his sunhat--it’s okay, today is cloudy. He’s forgotten his bug spray, too. And his sandals. He just wanted to be out of that empty kitchen and now he stands barefoot on the pebbled path, clutching at his arms, staring into the forest.
Did the dog get lost?
How would it get lost? He’s always assumed it simply teleported where it needed to be. Maybe his soulmates aren’t too far away, though, and maybe the dog always journeys by foot. Janus thinks of the little stupid thing walking through the rain to get to him, and something cold turns over in his stomach.
Maybe the dog is with his soulmate.
That would make sense. Maybe Roman is hogging the dog, or simply needed its help with something. Maybe Roman finally got tired of Janus not writing back and kept the dog with him out of spite.
Maybe Roman’s finally given up on him.
Janus doesn’t care.
Janus is fine on his own.
He’s always been.
He clenches his jaw and heads straight for the forest. He’ll do everything anyway. He’ll get more done if he doesn’t have to slow down so the stupid dog can keep up. He’ll climb every tree in this forest.
Though he should put on some shoes, at least, before he starts--
A whine from behind him.
He whirls.
There’s nothing there. Just a few rows of garden and the closed door to the kitchen. The walls of their house are dark blue because Weather Dad wanted purple and Coffee Dad wanted black and Glasses Dad wanted “something sensible.” A vulture wheels high above Janus, etched against the thunderous grey clouds. Maybe it’ll rain. Janus hopes not--he still has trees to climb.
Another whine.
It’s the sound of a dog. A dog in pain.
Janus looks around frantically. He has to be hearing things. There’s nothing, nothing but a few boots by the back door, the cracks in the steps, the rows of tomatoes--
Something shifts in the shadow of the steps.
Janus steps closer.
A third whine.
He hasn’t heard any dog whine like that. But he only knows one dog.
Janus sprints to the steps.
His dog, his stupid ridiculous dog, is curled up next to them.
“There you are!” Janus complains, squatting next to it and reaching out a hand. “Why are you just sitting there, you’re late--”
He touches the dog. It’s shaking. He slips his other arm under its belly to pick it up.
It flinches.
And teeth close around his wrist.
Janus yells, jerking his hand away. The dog hasn’t punctured the skin, but he can see little divots, and it stings. He shakes his wrist out and turns back to the dog. It’s curled deeper into the shadows as if ashamed.
Its leg is twisted under it.
Janus thinks he sees blood.
For a second his heart stops, and as if to make up for it, starts pounding fast and hard.
But this isn’t the time to panic. His dog is hurt.
“Hey,” Janus says as softly as he can, “can you come out?”
The dog looks at him with wide eyes.
“I bet you can’t move much,” Janus says, sitting down entirely and raising his arms. He leaves them hovering a few inches from the dog. “It must have hurt when I touched you, huh?”
The dog curls even tighter into itself. It’s strange to see it in the shadows like this. It’s a dog that looks best in the sunlight--now Janus can see the scraggly edges of its spots and the little chunks in its tail. It looks lost and confused and scared.
Janus edges closer.
The dog sinks back, giving Janus a little warning growl.
Janus stops.
And the dog tucks its head between its paws, looking like it wishes very much to keep away from Janus forever.
“Easy,” Janus says. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
The dog blinks at him.
And for a second, Janus understands it, more than he’s understood anyone in his whole life.
It’s not afraid that he’ll hurt it.
It’s afraid that it’ll hurt him again.
“Oh,” Janus says, pulling his hand back. “It’s okay, I promise.”
The dog watches his hand.
“Look, the bite will heal.” Janus holds up his wrist. “See? It’s not so bad. There’s not even any blood.”
The clouds swirl above them. It’s going to rain soon, and Janus is not leaving his stupid dog out in the rain. Out in the rain injured, and there will be time to wonder how this happened and if Roman knew about it, but now isn’t that time.
“It’s okay,” Janus says again. “I...you were hurt, and you were scared, and you lashed out. I do that sometimes, too.” He pauses and holds out his arms. “But I want to help. I’m not mad at you--and I’ll try my best not to hurt you. I can’t say it won’t hurt at all, but I’m sorry in advance if it does, and you really need to get looked after so I think it’ll be worth it in the end.”
The dog tilts its head. It’s a cute little thing. Janus notices it has no message for him, and his stomach twists, but now isn’t the time.
“Come here?” he asks hesitantly.
The dog struggles to its feet and limps into his arms. Janus sighs with relief and curls it close to his chest. It’s warm. He can feel its heartbeat fluttering against him.
“Thank you,” he says. “You’re going to stay with me for a little while, okay? We have some medical supplies. I’m sure Roman won’t miss you much, and--I can write him a letter. Explaining everything.” Janus bites his lip. “If...he’d like that.”
The dog licks Janus’ chin, which Janus counts as a yes.
Janus smiles at it.
Stupid little dog.
He stands up and carries it into the house.
---
It’s raining.
Not one of the nice kinds of rain, either. Patton likes when it rains lightly and drizzles his hair until it’s a little bit floofy. He likes it when it’s warm and wet and filled with puddles he can splash in. And he likes it when it snows--which isn’t really rain, but his teachers say it’s frozen rain, so he thinks it counts.
This, though, is a thunderstorm. Lots of flashy lightning and booms of thunder. Patton doesn’t like thunderstorms because Paw-ton doesn’t. It tries to wriggle through the window and hide under Patton’s bed, and Patton has to stop it because no pets in the apartment.
He always ends up covering Paw-ton with an umbrella on rainy nights. Sometimes that means Patton gets wet. Patton doesn’t mind.
He’s wet now.
It’s cold. It’s cold and wet and the thunder is way too loud and he’s a little nervous that being so high up means the lightning might come for him and zap his bones. He’s curled in a tight ball so the lightning won’t see him. Maybe it’ll hear him.
But he’d be hard to hear over the storm.
Big claps of thunder, the screech of cars, and the endless thrum of rain around him. Patter patter patter, splash splash splash.
Patton can barely see a thing. His glasses are wet and covered in droplets so the whole world blurs. Smears of red and yellow for the neon signs, flashes of white for the lights in the distance, and a broiling grey expanse of sky.
His pajamas are soaked through. The fire escape is slippery under him.
Maybe he shouldn’t be out here.
But he’s waiting.
He doesn’t know how late it is. Probably less late than it seems, because the sun is completely hidden and the clouds make the world very dark. Still. He’s pretty sure Paw-ton should be here by now.
Paw-ton should be here, and Patton is very, very worried, and Patton is very, very cold.
And Patton is very, very alone.
What happened? Is Paw-ton just late? Or maybe it’s stuck somewhere, not wanting to go out in the rain. But it’s gone in the rain before. It always comes for Patton. Patton can’t name a single time when it didn’t.
Paw-ton is always on time.
Paw-ton is always there.
Patton wonders if he did something wrong.
Maybe the universe decided to take back his soulmates. Maybe the dog got hurt, or kidnapped. Maybe one of his soulmates kept it for longer--maybe Paw-ton is a comfort for them, like it is for Patton, and they just needed it after a rough day.
Which makes sense.
And is fair.
And yet Patton still selfishly wishes his dog was here.
Because he’s cold and alone and should be going back inside but he’s stuck here, drummed in place by rain, face dripping and hands pruny and the world crashing down around him.
Sheets of rain, blobs of color, and the smell of wet asphalt.
Patton doesn’t like the city much.
It’s always prettier when Paw-ton is there.
Yeah, it’s just a dog. But it’s something. It’s another warm body on the fire escape and a reminder that somewhere out there is someone that is meant for Patton. Patton’s not alone. He’s not a lost puzzle piece in a jigsaw that someone else already completed. He’s got his person or his people. And his dog.
He’s got a place to be, and someday he’ll get there, and one night with no dog doesn’t mean that changes so why does he feel like crying?
Patton presses his hands over his eyes. The tears come anyway, thick and fast, falling in sheets like the rain around him.
He’s a little lost thundercloud, far from the storm, not loud enough to crack through the world. Not big enough to make any sound at all.
He cries, curled up on the fire escape, and it’s stupid to be crying over a dog but he can’t stop himself.
He’s cold, and he’s wet, and he’s lonely.
So he cries.
He doesn’t go back in for a very long time, not until even his bones are wet and he’s about to collapse from tiredness. He peels off his wet pajamas and leaves them in a heap on the floor.
He keeps the window open overnight, just in case Paw-ton is scared of the storm and wants to hide. He doesn’t care about the rules. Not right now.
His whole room is cold and wet, and Patton barely sleeps, and his dog--his cute little puppy dog--is nowhere to be found.
That night, all the window lets in is the rain.
---
Roman wakes up on his own.
He brushes his teeth on his own. He puts on his school clothes on his own. He doesn’t bother to open the window, because he knows there won’t be any dragons.
The dog doesn’t come.
He pretends it doesn’t hurt.
Roman hopes the dog is okay. Maybe his other soulmates helped it. Maybe they’ve decided to keep it so it stays safe.
Roman wouldn’t blame them.
This is his punishment for letting it get hurt.
He gets that.
In the stories, his soulmates and him save the world. And in his angry stories, his soulmates save the world from him.
Everything’s an angry story now, written in his own cramped handwriting, the words disjointed and slashing through him like knives. Everything’s red and black and with no happy ever afters because Roman threw the notebook at the wall before he finished.
Roman gets angry sometimes.
And now his dog is hurt.
And now his soulmates probably hate him.
Roman gets angry, and he’s trying so hard not to be angry right now, so all that’s left is regret.
The dog never comes and Roman wants to cry.
He’s on time for school. It’s the first day in months that he’s managed that. He eats breakfast slowly and slips into the car. His mom doesn’t glare at him like usual and the minivan puts slowly down the road. They’re in no rush. Roman is right on time.
He hates it.
---
Janus wakes up to the dog curled by the foot of his bed. He eats breakfast quickly and runs up to make sure it’s still okay. His dads helped him as much as they could, but only Janus could actually patch the dog up, so he’s worried he didn’t do a very good job. But the dog seems to be doing better. Maybe it’s magic--maybe it heals fast.
Janus still doesn’t know what happened to it. He’s trying not to jump to conclusions. But if Roman hurt this dog, Janus is going to shove him into a tree. Twice.
It’s his stupid dog. Nobody hurts his stupid dog.
“Feeling better?” Janus asks it that morning. “I can’t have you hanging around forever, mutt, you’re stinking up my room.”
The dog gives him a look, and Janus gives it a look right back.
He takes it with him when he does his chores, under the guise of getting the dog moving so it heals faster. The dog is no help with his chores, but oddly, Janus gets them done quicker.
He eats lunch with the dog sitting on his feet.
It’s ridiculous.
It still makes him smile.
The dog is restless. He catches it looking out the window or staring at the door. It has other places to be. It wants to be with Roman again--and that hurts, just a bit, but Janus has had the dog for a whole night. He wonders if Roman misses the dog. Roman must know it was hurt. Unless it got hurt in transit, but Janus has become relatively sure that the dog is only affected by the real world when they’re involved in it. Evidence: it disappeared when he left the room, which he knows because he saw it appear again for the first time. It’s strange to watch. There wasn’t a dog and now, suddenly, there’s a dog.
Which means the dog was only around to get hurt if Roman was there.
Which means Roman must know the dog was hurt.
Janus wonders if Roman tried to help. Why’d the dog leave? Why’d the dog come to him?
Maybe it was just the timing.
Or maybe it likes Janus, and Janus doesn’t know why that makes him feel giddy.
The dog is restless, and Janus tells it that it’s still healing and needs to stay. It whines. Janus hates its whining. It’s a pitiful sound and makes him feel bad, inside and out.
Janus tries to climb a tree or two in the afternoon, but since the dog can’t follow, he loses motivation quickly. Instead he sits in the garden, the dog curled by his side, and tells stories.
The dog watches the road that winds down the hill and into the city.
The dog watches it, and Janus watches it too. It’s an empty road. Nobody ever comes up here.
“Is he close?” Janus finds himself asking.
The dog lowers its head.
“You’re hurt,” Janus says. “You can’t--”
It’s getting late. The sun is setting. If Janus doesn’t keep his eyes on the dog, it’ll travel wherever it needs to go, and he doesn’t know if that hurts it. Or if Roman will be able to look after the dog like it needs. It’s wounded. Its leg is splinted and it can’t walk, and Janus trusts his soulmate but only to be dramatic and to write letters every day.
He’s not sure if he trusts Roman with this dog.
He’d like to, of course, but Janus doesn’t trust easily.
Not with important things.
“Stay,” Janus begs the dog, staring at it. It never leaves when he’s looking. But it appeared when he was looking today--maybe it’s getting desperate.
The dog keeps whining, low and upset.
“I can’t let you leave,” Janus says. “I’m sorry, I need to look after you--”
The dog nips at him and pulls itself to its feet, shivering.
“Hey, no!” Janus exclaims. “Stop that, you’ll hurt yourself--”
The dog gives him a determined look.
“No, wait--” Janus’ heart squeezes. “You can’t just go to him. I need to make sure you’re safe.”
A gesture of the head.
It’s a clear message. He needs me. I’m going.
Janus sighs.
He doesn’t want this dog getting hurt again.
But...he imagines Roman, without the dog, worrying. He imagines letters in that red sparkly pen that are folded up but never delivered.
Janus stands up and grabs the dog.
“I’m going out,” he calls to his dads.
“It’s late,” says Weather Dad, peeking his head out of the door. Glasses Dad is cooking--Janus can smell it. It is late. He’ll miss dinner if he does this.
He looks down at the dog in his arms.
“I need to bike somewhere,” he says. “It’ll be quick.”
Weather Dad’s eyebrows pull together and he scowls, but his eyes flicker down to the dog. He can’t see it. It probably looks like Janus is holding nothing at all.
“Be quick,” Weather Dad says. “And be careful, don’t want you falling off. Keep your lights on. Wear a yellow hat, stay to the side of the road, bring a phone--”
“Babe, he’ll be fine.” Coffee Dad slings an arm around Weather Dad’s shoulders. “Don’t get lost, Jan, okay?”
“I won’t,” Janus promises, and for Weather Dad’s sake he takes the large yellow sunhat offered to him. It matches his t-shirt. He can’t imagine not being noticed in this hat.
His bike is leaned against the side of the garage. He places the dog in the basket and hops onto the seat, wobbling his way to the road.
It’s all downhill from there. The road looks like a stream, bubbling back and forth through the trees, slipping its way over rocks to the city.
He just has to let go and ride the whole way down.
Janus nods to himself and pedals.
It’s a warm evening. The wind whips his hair, pulling it loose until the curls fly around his head. The dog opens its mouth and lolls its tongue out. It looks happy. Maybe because he’s giving in--Janus is going to find his soulmate tonight, because of the stupid dog, the one thing they have in common.
He’s headed towards the glittering city below.
The shadows around him are warm and thick and the trees rustle in the wind. He grips tightly to his handlebars and brakes a bit, taking the curves expertly. He sees flashes of trunks and logs and flowers, dim and muted. The whole world is like a wet cloth--dipped in water and wrung out until it’s all smudged and dulled and darkened.
The crickets chirp and Janus thinks he sees a firefly.
He rides further down the hill. He’s building up speed. He pedals as fast as he can, hat almost flying off his head, shirt whipping around.
He can’t see the city anymore, because he’s almost there.
His bicycle skims the road neatly, bends into the curves, and he’s pedaling so fast and steady he can’t imagine stopping himself. He’s all momentum. He’s flying down the hill, past the forest full of trees he’s yet to climb. It’s the opposite direction of where he usually goes. He is no longer trying to touch the sky. He is headed for the valley, for the shadows, for a distant promise of a soulmate.
Is Janus ready for this?
Possibly not. Probably not.
Does Janus want this?
Yes.
And Janus won’t let anything get between him and what he wants.
He pushes himself even faster and soars down the hill.
The city appears in front of him. The road widens. Little white dashes bleed into existence and Janus pulls over to the side. The dog is still panting, pointing his nose down into the city, leading Janus on.
He’s glad one of them is having fun.
The city is so bright, he realizes as he approaches. Every building is flaming with lights. The windows are little squares against the sky and the streetlights are circles and the cars shuffle back and forth like glowing ants.
The city is on fire, and Janus is heading right for it.
He tightens his grip on his handlebars.
He flies.
---
The dog hasn’t come.
Patton has planned for this. He’s brought a coloring book and some crayons, so he can wait for a long time. Maybe he should have brought his homework. It’s due soon, and besides, he can’t even see the colors. They all look gray and washed-out in the neon lights.
He thinks about getting a flashlight.
But he might miss Paw-ton, if it arrives, and he’s just found a kinda comfortable spot.
So Patton sits there, coloring book in his hands, watching the lights.
Someone is yelling again. So many people yell in the city. Patton doesn’t get it. Sometimes you’re listened to and sometimes you’re not and it’s no use getting angry over it.
He doodles a little dog. He’s not very good at drawing but he gets the floppy ears and the little nose and the cute teeny tail. He writes ‘Paw-ton’ next to it.
He’ll show it to Paw-ton next time it visits.
If it does.
Patton yawns. It’s late and he didn’t sleep much last night, but he can’t bring himself to leave.
Yelling. Cars. The skid of a bicycle, the chatter of people, the distant pulse of music. People always play music in the city, too. Patton gets that, at least. Music is nice. Sometimes if someone’s playing good music, and Patton’s had a good day, he dances to it. Paw-ton isn’t a good dancer but he jumps around a lot and that’s good enough.
Patton tries moving his head to the beat.
He can’t find the energy.
It’s a warm night, the kind of night that buzzes, that says the world is just a little bit different than usual. A nice night. It would be nice if Patton weren’t alone in it.
If he wasn’t so gosh darn worried.
A dog barks nearby. He can almost pretend it’s Paw-ton. It’s the right sound, soft and kind, never barking for too long--
“Hello?”
Patton jerks upright. That’s a voice from right down below him. He waits to see who it’s talking to.
“Hello?” The voice sounds a little exasperated. “I can see you, you know. And I have no idea why you’re on a fire escape of all things, but you should come down--I’ve got someone who wants to see you.”
Patton peeks over the edge. A boy is standing there, wearing a baggy yellow t-shirt and a large straw hat of the same color. It has a ribbon across it. It’s a nice hat. He’s a nice boy, or at least Patton thinks so, with thin legs and loads of freckles and the kind of frizzy hair that makes it look like a little ginger cloud is following him around. He’s staring at Patton with blue eyes and a vaguely irritated expression. There’s a bandaid on his left knee and it has a smiley face on it. A bicycle is leaned up against the wall of the alley.
In his arms--
Oh!
Patton squeals. He scrambles to his feet and takes the steps two at a time, grinning wildly.
“Slow down,” says the boy. “I don’t want to have to fix another broken leg.”
Patton barely slows down. He runs all the way to the ground and bolts over, because it’s Paw-ton, his dog, his dog is finally back and curled up in this boy’s arms--
“You’re okay!” Patton blurts out as he skids to a stop.
“It’s alright,” the boy agrees, holding Paw-ton out. Patton opens his arms and Paw-ton jumps into them, licking Patton’s face. Patton giggles.
“I missed you!” Patton exclaims. “I missed you, I missed you so much, what happened--”
“It got hurt,” says the boy. “I splinted its leg as much as I could. I was going to keep him here for longer, but he was desperate to get back to you. No need to thank me--”
“Thank you!” Patton extends one arm and hugs the boy around the shoulders. “Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!”
“Er,” the boy says, looking taken aback. “You’re welcome?”
“I was so worried,” Patton gushes. “It got hurt? What happened?”
“I was hoping you’d tell me that,” says the boy, his voice taking on a hard edge. Patton pauses, his smile falling.
“What--” Patton looks from the dog in his arms back to the boy. “I don’t know what happened! I just waited for Paw-ton and he wasn’t there! He didn’t get hurt with me.”
“That’s strange,” says the boy, frowning. “I thought--wait, Paw-ton?”
“That’s what I named him!” Patton says. “After me? My name’s Patton. You--we can change it if you want. I just wanted something to call the little pupper!”
“Patton,” the boy repeats. “Not Roman?”
“Roman?” Patton’s never heard that name before. “Who’s Roman?”
The boy blinks.
And he says a very, very naughty word. Patton covers the dog’s ears.
“Two soulmates,” the boy finally says, groaning. “All this time I had two soulmates. I thought it was just Roman and his letters--” Horror flashes over his face and he looks up at Patton like he’s seeing him clearly for the first time. “You didn’t get any of the letters--I took them--”
“What?” Patton asks.
“I--” The boy swallows. “I’m sorry. I--I didn’t know you were here, too.”
“Oh.” Patton doesn’t fully understand, but the boy looks upset, so he tries to smile. “It’s okay! I’m here now?”
“You are.” The boy looks down at Paw-ton. “I’m...I’m also sorry I kept the dog for so long.”
“It’s okay,” Patton says again. Because now, he feels, it is. He’s got his dog back. “You helped it, and that was really nice of you!”
The boy smiles a little. “I’m Janus.”
“Janus! I’m Patton!” Patton giggles. “I already said that. Nice to meetcha!”
“Likewise.” Janus looks around at the alley. Neon lights play across his face, making his freckles glow. “Do you come here often?”
“I live in the apartment over there.” Patton rocks the dog in his arms. “Where do you live?”
“Up the hill in the woods.”
“Whoa! Really?” Patton gasps. “I wanna see!”
Janus chuckles. “Easy there. We just met.”
“Yeah, but you’re my soulmate.” Patton pauses as the reality of that finally, finally sinks in. “You’re....you’re my soulmate. My actual soulmate.”
“Yes?” Janus’ hand comes up to pull at his hair. “And you’re mine, I suppose. I...I understand if this is a lot to process--”
“You’re my soulmate,” Patton breathes, and he can’t think of anything else because his soulmate is here, and real, and standing in cargo shorts and a yellow t-shirt and a big hat. They must be the same age or close enough. Janus has a lot of little freckles and one big freckle down the side of his face and he looks really, really nice.
He wonders what Janus thinks of him.
He hopes it’s good.
“We have one more,” Janus says awkwardly. “Roman. He sends me letters, but I never wrote back.”
“Why not?” Patton asks.
“I don’t know, I just--” Janus looks away. “I was scared, I guess.”
Patton watches him for a second.
“This is scary,” he agrees. “I don’t know you very much. And you’re supposed to listen to me and be nice, but I don’t know if you will.”
“I’ll try?” Janus suggests.
Patton looks at him a second longer. Then he nods decisively. “You’re nice. You helped our dog, so you’re nice.”
Janus looks down at the dog. “For what it’s worth, I think Paw-ton is a fine name. I never gave it one, I--I always thought you’d have made one up yourself.”
“You can give it a middle name,” Patton suggests.
Janus huffs and rolls his eyes. “I just call it stupid.”
“Stu, then.” Patton shrugs. “Short for stupid.”
Janus blinks. “Stupid is an insult.”
“I bet it’s not when you use it.”
Janus looks down at the dog and sighs. “No, it’s not.”
“Paw-ton Stu,” Patton announces, and the dog nuzzles his chin. “Roman can pick the last name when we find him.”
“So...we’re looking for him?” Janus asks. “Now?”
“Not now,” Patton says. “It’s late.”
“It is,” Janus agrees. He shifts. “Tomorrow? I know where your apartment is now. We could...find Roman together? If you’d like?”
Patton thinks of all the nights he spent waiting for his soulmates. Or waiting for his dog. He’s always waited. He’s always figured that if he deserves a soulmate, fate will bring them to him. He’s always thought that his soulmates will find him if they want him. Patton’s always been told not to force things. He can’t be too loud or he’s being mean.
He’s been quiet for a long, long time.
He’s stayed very, very still.
He’s thought of a someday and he’s never tried to make that today.
He’s got places to go. Maybe it’s time he starts moving.
“Yeah,” Patton says, smiling. “Together.”
---
Roman is quiet.
He wasn’t quiet at first. The moment he’d seen the dog, sitting next to two boys his age, he’d almost screamed. They’d laughed as he scooped up the dog and looked it over--it looked alright, with a little splint on its leg. It licked his nose and tucked its head under his chin.
He’d been forgiven by the dog, at least.
His soulmates were another matter entirely.
Which is why Roman’s quiet now, sitting on the pavement, trying to think of what to say.
He glances up at them for the fifth time. One of them has enough freckles for a dot-to-dot puzzle, and the other has black hair that forms a fringe over his eyebrows. They’re not glaring at him. But they don’t look exactly happy, and Roman’s nervous.
“Sure, let’s just sit here in silence forever, that sounds fun.” That’s Freckles, sitting back on his hands and giving them both cool looks. “Is anyone going to talk or must I?”
“Um.” That’s the other one. “Hi! I’m Patton, this is Janus, and you must be Roman!”
“I’m Roman,” Roman agrees.
Patton and Janus. Nice names. They look like nice people, and Roman figures if things were different, maybe they could be friends.
He doesn’t know if they want to be his friends.
They’re his soulmates, which makes things weird.
Roman had plans for when he’d finally meet his soulmates. He’d sweep them off their feet and proclaim his undying affection, then they’d ride off into the sunset together. There isn’t a sunset right now. The sun is low next to the squat concrete square of his school, and cars drive past them, separated only by a chain-link fence and a strip of dirty grass.
He looks across the parking lot. His mom is waiting.
He’d expected her to argue when he said he needed to go talk to his soulmates. She hadn’t. She’d given him a kiss on the head and promised they’d like him.
Roman isn’t sure if they will.
But he knows where to start.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
Patton and Janus exchange a look.
“What happened?” Patton asks, and it’s gentle, but he can tell Patton is a little angry. Roman pulls his legs to his chest.
The dog doesn’t leave his arms. He finds courage from that.
“I--I was upset,” Roman starts off, not looking at either of them. “I wanted to go to the playground, and the dog kept following even when I told it to leave, and--and it got hit by a bicycle. ‘Cause nobody could see it.” He reaches out and hands Patton his dog back. “I’m really sorry.”
Patton looks down at the dog, then back at Roman, who is trying very hard not to cry.
“I forgive you,” Patton says.
What?
“Me too,” Janus adds, looking a little uncomfortable. “You know. If it matters. It sounds like it was an accident.”
“But--” Roman looks between them. “I thought you’d be mad, I--”
Patton shakes his head. “Sounds like you were the one who was mad.”
And maybe that’s true. Maybe Roman’s always been angry--angry at himself and the world and his soulmates. But maybe the rest of the world doesn’t work like he does.
They’re not angry with him.
So maybe Roman doesn’t have to be angry with himself, either.
He takes a deep breath.
“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you so much.”
“Janus did most of the work,” Patton said, grinning at Janus, who snorts and looks away. “He was the one who looked after Paw-ton.”
“You figured out what school Roman went to based off what he said in his letters,” Janus pointed out.
“Wait.” Roman looks between them. “Letters?”
It’s Janus’ turn to look at the ground.
“You got my letters!” Roman exclaims.
“I...did.” Janus pauses. “I--I didn’t pass them on to Patton, though, so he didn’t.”
“It’s alright,” Patton says, sounding like it hadn’t always been alright. “I found you guys now.”
“Roman.” Janus’ jaw clenches. “I...I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of them. I couldn’t think of what to say--I’m not good with people in general, and I was scared, and I definitely wanted to make a terrible first impression on my soulmate, so I--” He wraps one arm around himself. “I promised myself I’d write back someday. I’m sorry it took so long.”
Roman stares at him.
And he’s had a million rants ready for this moment, a million questions, a million jabs because he’s spent years writing those letters, pouring his heart and soul into them, and each one had just been cast aside like it was nothing--
Except Janus didn’t think that. He’d just been scared he wasn’t enough--that he couldn’t measure up to Roman’s letters.
Roman closes his eyes and lets the anger drain away.
“It’s okay,” he says, and he finds he means it. “We’re here now.”
“We’re here now,” Janus repeats, as if he can’t believe it.
“We’re together!” Patton squeals. He dumps the dog in Janus’ arms and attacks Roman in a hug. Roman jerks in surprise but hugs him back. Patton is warm and soft and pretty strong and fits into him like they were made for each other.
They are.
That’s the whole point.
Roman starts to laugh, beaming at Patton, and Patton’s giggling too, and even Janus is covering his mouth to hide his chuckles. Roman reaches for Janus and Janus takes his hand, slipping his fingers between Roman’s. 
“You’re my friends,” Patton giggles. “You’re here and you’re my friends--” He cuts himself off. “Right?”
“Not yet,” Janus says softly. “But...maybe soon, if you’d like to be.”
Roman grins even wider. “I’d love to be.”
Janus smiles back.
Patton finally pulls away and gives Janus a quick hug too. The dog is curled up in Janus’ lap, looking like there’s no place it would rather be.
“Thanks, Paw-ton,” Patton tells it. “Paw-ton Stu, you did a very good job and you’re a very good boy, yes you are.”
The dog wags its tail.
“Paw-ton Stu?” Roman repeats.
“Short for Paw-ton Stupid,” Janus says, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Patton gave one name and I gave another. I’m sure you can’t guess which is which.”
“And you get to pick the last name!” Patton says, turning to Roman. “What do you call the little doggo?”
Roman shrugs. “Nothing, I could never find a name that fit.”
Janus leans forward and lets the dog trot over to Roman. It keeps its back leg lifted in the air, but it can still walk pretty well. Roman reaches out a hand and pets it, and its little tail wags even more.
He bites his lip. A name. A name for this magical little dog that managed to finally bring them all here.
“Dragon,” he decides, looking up. “How about dragon? He’s our little dragon sidekick.”
“Paw-ton Stu Dragon,” Janus says, rolling his eyes. “If that’s what we’re going with.”
Still, he gives the dog--Paw-ton--a little scratch around the ears, so Roman thinks he likes it.
“I love it!” Patton squeals, clapping his hands. “It’s perfect!”
“Thanks,” Roman says, smiling back.
Down the parking lot, someone honks. It’s not Roman’s mom. It’s a man with sunglasses and a coffee, leaning against a small car and watching them.
“My dads,” Janus explains. “I have to either go or tell them what I’m doing next.”
Roman shifts. “What...what are we doing next?”
“Stay?” Patton immediately offers. It’s quick. It’s desperate.
Roman gets the feeling that Patton hasn’t had many friends before.
Well, Roman will just have to be an extra good one, then. To Patton and Janus. His soulmates. And it’s silly to still think of this as one of his stories, but he does--he was angry, and he painted himself as the villain, and his soulmates came and redeemed him. No, better than that. They showed him he didn’t need to be redeemed.
And now they have a dragon sidekick and a wide future before them.
Because if Roman can meet his soulmates, and if they can be his friends, why can’t everything else be possible, too? Castles and lakes and endless skies, adventures with his new friends, a world filled with things to explore.
Roman has dreams, and for once, they seem within his reach.
“I have to study,” he says regretfully. “But...later?”
“Wait.” Janus shifts and bites his lip. “I...I could help you study, if you’d like that?"
Roman stares at him and smiles. “I’d like that!”
“Study buddies!” Patton cheers. “I can bring my homework too!”
“Great!” Roman looks around. “I have to get my stuff, but we’ll meet at the playground down the road, okay?”
“Sounds good,”Janus says. “Paw-ton Stu Dragon--ugh--can lead us there if we get lost.”
“Yes it can, can’t it?” Patton coos. “Yes you can, you cute little pupper, yes you can.”
“I’ll meet you there?” Roman offers.
Patton nods and smiles.
“We’ll be there,” Janus promises.
And Roman believes them.
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tobswrites · 3 years
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Other Side-oneshot
Another bnha Kiribaku Fantasy AU because I love dragon Kirishima, and because I was heavily inspired by this creator’s animation please check them out, and read their plot in their description! 
There was tales of dragons so old, one might believe they were just legends. Dragons that once co-existed with the humans, beings that shared their magic to all of the world. They were creatures that had it all, power, strength, wisdom, they were freedom. 
Katsuki grew up under his mother reign, groomed and raised to be the next ruler of the small kingdom. Trapped forever behind the castle walls to delegate with the other kingdoms surrounding them, pretending to be modest compared to the others, follow a fake protocol to keep their alliances, sign papers and rule when the citizens become unruly.
He hated the entire concept, he would love to be king one day sure, but to never even experience the world outside of his kingdom was torture. To not be able to explore and make a name for himself, a name that wasn’t already tied to royalty or was influenced by his mother.
No, he wanted to prove not only to the world, but to himself that he is worth the title of king.
How can a king delegate with kingdoms when he’s never been, how can a king prepare for a problem that has yet occurred in his life, how can he be a king making hastily decisions if he has not been in battle? He has no real experience besides that of his mothers, or that of lectures that come from books and rules.
Anyways, back to the dragons, Katsuki had heard of the tales and legends, of stories and the narratives. How it’s been about a millennium, perhaps even longer depending on the book you opened, that dragons were seen last.
People, humans and all other greedy creatures alike were obsessed with the dragons, of their scales that make of great armor, of fire so hot to melt the toughest of metals, their ability of flight and rule over the skies unlike any other. They had strength not only in their height, but as well in magic and in energy.
Not to forget they were so beautiful. Creatures no one could take their eyes away from.
But they disappeared for thousands of years, because greedy bastards could not keep their hands off them. Many were stolen from their homes, raised from eggs to slaves, fancied in chains and jewels a like. Used in war and controlled to gain power. They were slaughtered for their scales and talons, killed for their fangs and horns. Used to decorate their walls and become trophies to sick fucks.
The dragons of course were not weak, but they were tired of hiding, tired of running and fighting, they wanted to live in peace and so the main population had flown away, dwindled in numbers. So that they did not become of what happened to the unicorns, they left. The last dragon ever seen was a slave girl, who’s died after the constant war of obtaining her.
Some say she died by accident, others have been told that she killed herself, for she did not want to be trophy any longer.
Katsuki, when he was young, remembered a promise he had made with Deku, that the two would not die until they see a dragon with their own eyes. He doesn’t know what that idiot has been up to since he left the kingdom, following in the steps of man they both admired, while Bakugou had to stay in the castle, he was sure as hell going to see a dragon without him.
There was a mountain range, called Takai Mountains, rocks that even penetrated the clouds. And just above those clouds, were rumored to be the home of the dragons. Only of course no one survived to confirm those rumors.
Either they lost their way up or died coming back down.
Since dragons were not the only creatures living in those mountains. Bakugou should know, since he is currently trekking in unknown territory.
Bakugou was not one to fight meaningless fight, to only kill when hungry, to only kill to defend. So avoided the animals living in these mountains as best as he could, but rams were nasty assholes, constantly pushing things off cliffs and rocks. They were seven feet tall, horns curved off their thick skulls.
He had to kill one through his hike up the mountains and used as much as he could of the animal to not have the sacrifice be a waste. He dried meat, cooked it, used the ram’s fur for warmth. He had to only kill one more animal at the end of his trip out of defense, an owl griffon.
Its feathers were soft and warm, using it for the outer top of his red cape, he was able to rest easy on hard gagged rocks, and keep warm when the air’s cold winds picked up.
His slow trek to the top of the mountain also helped with him become accustom with the thin air. Soon, he was able to reach the top. Even to him, the foggy, thick clouds were hard and scary to maneuver through, but as soon as he broke out of that fog, he was greeted with a sight he believes many people have yet to seen.
It looked like snow, hills and hills of snow that seemed to never end. Breathtaking and beautiful, all of it was a look to never tear away from. That is until he heard a sharp sound, cutting the skies above the clouds. Looking up, he couldn’t hold his giddy smile, laughing in excitement as the dragons who still flew high above him flying towards their home, which couldn’t be far.
Turning to see the directions the dragons were heading, he was quick to take out a dagger and shoot it from his hand, hitting a rock just near a face he saw from the corner of his eye.
There, standing unbothered by the dagger that was inches away from scaring his other eye was a man. Large in stature, red hair, long with the tips a black. His face was worn of either age or tiredness. Bakugou thinks it’s the latter.  
“You’re a dragon.” Bakugou is quick to say, looking at the man’s features. He sorta feels bad for throwing the dagger now, but still, the dragon shouldn’t have snuck up on him like that. The man had ears longer than any elf he’s seen, red and thick with black piercings, small loops unlike the green quartz studs Bakugou wore.
His horns were large as well, both a dark red and shaped uniformly. Sharp and and not all dull at the points. He wore a leather vest, lined with fur. He also wore a scarf, thick like the rest of the man’s clothing, it was a plain scarf, but it caught Bakugou’s interest, nonetheless.
“And who are you?” The dragon growled, crossing his arms and watching the human carefully.
“Bakugou Katsuki.” The barbarian king says with a cocky smile.
“Kirishima.” The red head says, but there’s a look of distaste. “Why are you here?”
“Have many reached this point?” Bakugou asks his own question instead, causing Kirishima to sneer at the blond with even more disgust.
“No. Is that why you’re here? For fame? For a title to be able to reach the peak of Takai?” The mountains were very much known to be the mountains of the Kings, and so it wouldn’t be a surprise if that was why Bakugou was here.
Either way, Kirishima could not let the man pass this point.
“No, I’m here for you.” Bakugou answers truthfully, causing the dragon to look surprised.
“For me?” Does he know? It wouldn’t be possible, the human barely knows where he is, he looks too excited and there’s never been any..
“Well, not you specifically,” Bakugou says, waving him off, “any dragon would do.”
That causes Kirishima to growl even louder, any dragon? Was this man like of those stories told by his ancestors before him? The greed that had infested the creatures below to take things that did not belong to them?
“For what?”
“For companionship.”
Okay, wait what?
“You’re a dragon, right?” Bakugou asked, taking a step forward, curious, “I want you to travel with me, to lands never seen before to worlds only written in the books of myths and legends. To see more than the walls that contained me for years.”
Kirishima’s change of look from distrust to confusion and curiousness helped Bakugou become forward. The barbarian king was known to anger and irritate people quickly, but he wants this man to follow him. If he can get a dragon to follow him, then he can do the impossible too.
“You are a human, aren’t you? You do know you humans are beneath us, creatures not worth following, creatures not even worth talking to.” He dryly laughs.
Bakugou snorts.
“What?” Kirishima’s smile is quick to disappear.
“You’re not just some dragon huh?”
“What impression did I give you?”
“A guard doesn’t ask questions first, a citizen doesn’t look as calm as you do to an outsider, to a different species completely, especially if us humans have yet made it up these mountains for years.”
Kirishima glares, his fist clenching tighter than before.
“You sorta remind me of me.”
“How so?”
Bakugou was always one to ask questions later, always one for a fight when he was younger. But those years have passed him, and he’s tired of the same routine. Not like he would admit, but if he saw a dragon at his door step, in his kingdom he would act like that fucking nerd and ask all sorts of stupid questions, be calm and rational, be intrigued but feign indifference.
“You’re royalty, aren’t you?”
Kirishima’s entire body stiffens, and he curses at himself for reaction so blatantly.
Bakugou laughs at the dragons reaction, but then he stretches his right hand out, unsheathing his talibon sword with the other.
“I know that look in your eyes, the look of longing and the feeling of ache at the very deep of your soul. You’re bored, you’re tired of the same shit. Right here, right now, I’m giving you the offer, follow me and I’ll cut you free from your chains.” He raises his sword up to show a representation of how easily Bakugou can do that for him.
There’s walls that surround Kirishima too, sure he’s not allowed to be outside his own home’s boundary, and sure he did sneak out to look out to the horizon only to find Bakugou there, admiring the view as he was.
“You’re bored of this shit aren’t you? Grey rocks and blue skies, don’t you want to see what’s further beyond?” he slices his sword backward, pointing the blade to the clouds far from the mountains. “Trade it for something more colorful.”
“You’re fucking crazy.” Kirishima has never left this mountain, not when he was a whelp, and not when he was a drake. He was raised above the clouds, and was forbid to see anything beyond them.
“Then live a little crazy.” Bakugou quickly replies back, a feral grin growing on the man’s features, “Don’t be a king to some dumb fucks who need to be ruled. Risk it, and maybe you’ll be able to see it all.”
“You don’t know what youre saying.”
“Of course I do, you play the part of king, you sign shit, and you either agree with a new law, or disagree. You decide the fate of your people, strapped to a chair all fucking day with the same issues and shit people have dealt with for millions of years.”
Kirishima takes a step backwards, turning his view from Bakugou, already feeling conflicted with this man’s words.
“You can either stay here Kirishima, stuck in a fucking cage, or take this key I’m giving you, and fucking fly the hell out of here.”
Kirishima scoffs, looking back to Bakugou looking a little more pissed, but Bakugou’s smile doesn’t falter.
“I hate to tell you that I’m actually happy with this life you think I’m trapped in.” uncrossing his arms, Kirishima walks towards Bakugou, but the man looks completely fearless, and that fucking grin of his won’t leave his face. “I admire you though, this whole thing you got going for you.” He motions towards Bakugou’s entirely with his hand, looking at the shorter man up and down. “Really I do.”
“But?” now it’s Bakugou’s time to cross his arms, his sword swiftly maneuvered so that it rest easy in his hand, not cutting or jabbing into anything on his body.
“You said it yourself, I’m a ruler, a dragon of high status, to run around with a human?” Kirishima laughs, saying it out loud even helps his conflicting emotions.
“I’m okay with this title I get to play, a soon to be king, now that’s what I want.” His growling increased tenfold, his wings sprung to life behind him, and Bakugou was sure they weren’t there before. Before Bakugou’s eyes, the man disappeared and in front of him was something magnificent.
Kirishima was huge, his scales beautiful and glistening in the sun, dull and intimidating in the dark.  His entire body was packed with muscle, and the dragon was radiating heat. Bakugou had to stagger a step back from the sheer force Kirishima’s energy had given off.
This wasn’t just some royal dragon, this had to be the king of dragons.
“I don’t need a key because I’m not in a fucking cage.” He snarls at Bakugou, his large head only inches away from the smaller male, yet the blond looks far from intimidated. He looked at Kirishima with only adoration and amazement.
“If I were mixed up with you,” he says, breaking the silence since Bakugou hasn’t retorted, his breath taken from him the second Kirishima turned, “I’ll be the talk of the dragons.” They would disown him, they would have him banished from this land, afraid that he’ll bring back the humans to overtake them and disrupt their community.
“Look at you Kirishima,” Bakugou takes the extra step, closing the distant between them more. “you have the eyes of someone who lost all his fight. Damaged and broken.” Spreading his arms, he looks at Kirishima with a sense of genuine care, “at least with me you would live a little, even laugh a little, give me the chance to give you that freedom.”
At the same time he says so, a large dragon shoots up from the clouds, just at the edge of the cliff they stood on, springing towards the skies. He doesn’t see them, at least Bakugou doesn’t think they do. He also internally laughs and cheers at the great timing the other dragon soars into the sky.
Distracted with the flying dragon, he doesn’t see Kirishima change back to his human form effortlessly.
“It’s a deal worth taking Kirishima.” Bakugou says, looking at Kirishima carefully, “But I’ll leave that up to you.”
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mimimimikkyu · 3 years
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fuck it Rowan rambling
What is/are your OC’s nickname(s) and how did it come about? Ro. It’s a shortened version of their name so it came about kinda obviously. Leon and Hop are the only ones that really use it though. Their dad has called them little litten since they were a child. They were an active kid and acted a bit like a cat sometimes.
What is the color of your OC’s eyes/hair/skin? Brown eyes. Short side shaved hair with the top dyed purple and the side shave naturally black. Warm tan skin.
How tall is your OC? 5’5”, they’re not short but a lot of people they know are taller than them. Even if only by a couple inches. They find this really funny.
What is a noticeable physical attribute of your OC? Their hair and their pointy canines.
What does your OC normally wear? What would your OC wear on a special night? Normally they wear a black sleeveless turtleneck and high waisted pants or shorts along with black boots. Their battling/champion wear is about the same as Leon’s with a different cape. As for formal wear they would go with something like this or this
What is one word you would use to describe your OC’s appearances? Mess
Does your OC have any markings, such as a birthmark or a scar? They have a few knicks and scars from general farm work.. Nothing really stands out about those to the regular person though.
How does your OC talk/what does your OC’s voice sound like?I’d have to come back to this one. I haven’t heard anyone who gives me their vibes yet.
What does your OC’s bedroom look like? Their living area? somethin like this but with more color probably
What does your OC keep in a special drawer? Ask Rose :)
What is your OC’s relationship with their mother? Nonexistent/strained since she left. If they’re honest they’d prefer not to think about her all that much. They do have a step mother but they were older by the time their father met her and thus they’re closer as friends. However if they need motherly advice they’re not afraid to ask.
What is your OC’s relationship with their father? Good. He’s very open and supportive of them and would give up a fair bit to help them out even if they won’t say a thing. They look to him for advice and call him often now that they’ve left the farm/home.
How many siblings does your OC have and what is their relationship with them? They have none biologically. They do consider Hop like a little brother however and they get along just fine.
Who is the mother and/or father figure in your OC’s life? Leon’s mother was like another mother while they were growing up. Even when he wasn’t home they were over often. Either as friendly visits or to help watch Hop for a day.
What was your OC’s childhood like? They moved to Galar when they were 7 with family (their Father, his parents, and their mother) and onto a farm in which they lived and worked. From there on it was mostly normal but behind the scenes there was a fair bit of emotional abuse being thrown their way by their mother. It led to a lot of nights spent running over to friends' houses to get away or crying in the barn.
What is your OC’s strongest childhood memory? Why and how has that impacted him/her? There’s a few things. Firstly Leon’s introduction and want to include them in whatever he did. It sparked a lifelong friendship between the two. Even when he became champion they still tried to stay as close as possible. The other is when their mother started their abuse. Constant yelling at them, telling them they weren’t good enough, they weren’t smart, they never cared about anyone, no one cared about them, they weren’t enough of a “girl” for their her tastes. Things like that. None of that has left them since their mother left/ their father caught on and kicked her out. But all those things are still in the back of their head nagging them to this day.
What is your OC’s imagination like? Half the books they owned while growing up were action fantasy and the other half were picture books of places they thought were pretty. So a lot of their imagination is still things like that. Imagining what it would be like to be in those pretty places, imagining dragon and fairy types roaming around in adventures in those places. Going out and doing those adventures themselves. Sometimes a little bit of romance gets involved in there. They fancy themselves the rogue that charms a noble in those cases.
How many times did your OC move as a child? Which area was their favorite? Just the once, it was a big move that stuck with them but that’s all. Since they’ve known Galar and the farm longer than they ever did their first home it’s their favorite.
What does your OC think of children- either in general or about having them? They like them and they’re good at handling them too. As mentioned earlier on they’d babysat Hop and when they’d go back home to visit extended family they’d always be around the kids there too. Having them is a different story. It’s something they’re really conflicted on. They’re not entirely sure they’d be a good parent and they need to know that whoever they’re with they could trust them to actually parent as well.
What kind of parent would your OC be? Same as their dad; open, supportive, and would drop everything to help their child out. Also puts their entire being into storytelling and play time.
Who are your OC’s closest relatives? Their father and while they were alive their grandparents, grandmother especially. Their father and grandfather showed them everything they know about farm work and their father always encouraged them to try new things but know their limits. Their grandmother showed them everything she knew about cooking and passed on some sewing knowledge to them as well.
Who is/are your OC’s closest friend(s)? Both Leon and Sonia have been their best friends since they moved to Potswick. They confide in them both for different reasons but rely on them both equally.
Who are the people your OC surrounds themselves with? Close friends, family, their pokemon team, a lover. They like other people but it’s a bit harder now for them to hang around random people.
Who are the people your OC dislikes/hates? People who lose their temper easily, people who scream to talk, the press.
If your OC has a soulmate, who is it? Wouldn't you like to know, weather boy?
Why does your OC and their soulmate work so well together?Most of the people in his life tend to kiss up to him a lot or mince their words around him, not Rowan. Rowan, whether they actually thought their words through or just blurted them out, tends to be a bit more blunt and they are not afraid to be so what-so-ever. Grounds him a bit when he needs it. He grounds them as well. He’s quick to pick up on when they’re feeling down and while he isn’t quite privy to everything that happened to them yet he’ll swoop right in and quell any notion they have that’s negative about themselves. Also he's pretty gotten pretty good at telling when they're about to blurt something out and can stop and get them to think.
What are some things your OC admires about their soulmate? His smile, his deep laugh and the way the lines around his eyes crinkle during both those things. His smell is another bonus, they may have stolen a jacket from him just to wear it on nights when he’s not around because of it.
How did your OC and his/her soulmate meet? During the season, as a somewhat belated birthday gift Leon brought them out to Wydon to watch an exhibition match and hang out for a weekend. During which They happened to meet up with the uhhhh, the man. Didn’t go great according to them but it is a part of their story nonetheless. They didn’t get together or really see much of each other for about two years after that when Rowan finally started the gym challenge themself however.
What is your OC’s level of education? High school. They opted to work the farm instead of pursuing much else afterwards. That’s how they grew up, it’s what they knew and honestly they enjoyed it.
Did your OC participate in extracurricular activities, and if so, what were they? Not officially, however despite not taking up being a trainer they’d always ask Leon about it and he was more than happy to share the knowledge.
What is your OC’s opinion of school? What kind of student were they? Average. They just learned what was needed and did a boat load of reading.
What subjects did your OC excel at? foreign language but they cheated technically because they already spoke the language they took at home with their grandparents. Shh, no one has to know.
What subjects interested your OC? Literature specifically, they liked learning about classics. While they never took anything related to it, they admired theater from afar.
What is your OC’s dream job and/or current profession? Currently they’re Galar’s newest champion. In the past they worked on the family farm and would go back to it should they ever step down. In their dreams if they had to settle down they’d like to be a writer of some sort in a house in the middle of nowhere.
How is your OC working towards his/her dream job and/or achieved his/her current profession? For the farm work it’s not really a matter of working towards it. They’ll always have that place back home. For the writing They’d have to actually write.
What are your OC’s thoughts/opinions of his/her current profession? They’re conflicted and entirely unsure they belong in the position they’re in. Even during the gym challenge they weren’t sure they’d ever get as far as the final tournament. A lot of that inner turmoil has to do with their past but they’re good at putting on a show and hiding it. At home they slink into Rose’s arms and tell him the worries of the day and he does his best to give advice or just affirmation.
What is your OC’s biggest dream? Being on the beach, resting in the water, floating away, not a care in the world. That’s about half of what they did when they went back home to see the extended family so it invokes a good fuzzy warm feeling in them.
How does your OC react to and handle stress? Depends on the stressor honestly. If it’s something a bit beyond control they tend to get real quiet and frustrated.
How does your OC handle anger? Not well, they’re afraid of being angry. They’re afraid of being like their mom. And they’re definitely afraid of any anger towards them.
How does your OC handle grief? It’s a multi-step process. They withdraw for a while, cry a lot. They know it’s important to let other people in to help but at least for a few days they just feel the need to be alone.
What is your OC’s greatest fear? Being completely and utterly alone.
What makes your OC happy? Reading, playing or battling with their pokemon, hanging around their friends in a group or one on one, being around Rose.
What kind of sense of humor does your OC have? A bad one.
What are some things that greatly upset your OC? You want like a list? Like memories of their mother for one. The loss of their grandparents. Memories of the darkest day and how they felt during that.
What are some things that annoy your OC? Being asked too many questions, especially when they’re not really given time to think. They know speaking without thought isn’t exactly their strong point so they’re not too keen on being made to do it.
If your OC has them, what are some regrets they have? Being too afraid to tell their father or even their grandparents about what happened with their mother.
How easily does your OC forgive? It takes a bit. They have to be 100% sure the person they’re forgiving means what they say even if it takes a while to get to that point.
What are some of your OC’s vices? Sweets and homemade bread. Absolutely cannot resist.
If your OC experienced trauma, what was it? Emotional abuse. I would consider the Darkest Day and the part they ended up playing in it traumatic for them as well. The entire ordeal was a part of their nightmares for a while.
What secrets does your OC have? Even though they had unofficially broken things off with Rose when the incident occurred they never quite stopped thinking of him. While he wasn't their first, he was one of the first people they could genuinely say they’d fallen for and they’d always played with the idea of seeing him again before they actually bit the bullet and did. Whiiiich was also a secret along with their initial relationship at first as well for about half a year after they got together again. Although eventually their father and Leon came to learn about it before anyone else in that time.
What are some of your OC’s morals? Oh god I wish I knew.
What are some of your OC’s motivations? Family, helping others, bettering themselves
What is the health of your OC? Good, they’re fairly active and can do quite a bit of heavy lifting.
Does your OC think with their head or heart? Oh Rowan doesn’t think, are you kidding me? Haha oh god. Heart though.
What are your OC’s thoughts on death? They choose not to think about it for the most part. Yeah it’s gonna happen but they’re young they have plenty of time to not care.
What are some of your OC’s strengths? Will still do things despite being apprehensive about them. If they’re good they’re good if they’re bad, it weighs on them a bit but they’re learning to not hold it against themselves.
What are some of your OC’s weaknesses? They still haven’t learned to not hold things against themselves and they’re always afraid of someone close turning on them or leaving without a word to the point where they’ll show visible discomfort in certain situations.
How does your OC take criticism? Depends. If it’s constructive they mull it over for a while and try to incorporate whatever it is in any way they can. If it’s not, they’re a bit miffed and flat out walk away from it.
What does your OC think of themselves? Fluctuate between I’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me and oh sad little baby full of feelings.
If your OC could change one thing about themselves, what would it be? The fact that they just kind of Say shit.
What is the general impression your OC gives other people? People can see them as a bit crass. Sometimes a little lost.
How emotionally/mentally vulnerable is your OC with other people? Depends on the people. Totally with their father and often Rose now as well. Leon and Sonia are also people they can be vulnerable with as well but not to the same extent as the other two.
How does your OC display love? Physically. For someone they’re dating it’s little kisses on the cheek or forehead, hand holding, light touches, and cuddling up to them. For friends and family it’s hugs, leaning on them, and light hearted jokes. They also like to cook for the people they love as well.
What are some habits your OC has picked up? Leg bouncing when they’re impatient Twirling and playing with little strands of hair Overly exaggerated gestures when they’re excited Needing to have something, even if it’s just snacks, prepared for any sort of company. They'll pick up little inflections from people they're close to as well
What is your OC’s favorite drink? Juice… Like fruit juice, honestly. The sweeter the fruit the better.
What is your OC’s favorite food? Very very simple but homemade bread with a cut of some kind of salty cheese.
What is your OC’s favorite sweet? Chocolate, cake especially. Double especially if the icing is chocolate as well.
What is your OC’s favorite season? Winter. The crisp air and the clothes they get to bundle up in make them one happy baby. Also cocoa is a huge, huge bonus.
What is your OC’s favorite kind of weather? Bright, clear sky, sun shining down and a gentle breeze rolling through the fields during the day with a slow rolling storm moving in in the evening when they’re all settled in for the night.
What is your OC’s favorite book? Anything fantasy/adventure.
What is your OC’s favorite movie and/or TV show? I don’t know the deep lore on the full entertainment industry in the pokemon universe but I do know I sure do like to draw them as the Phantom a lot. So they get to be into The Phantom of the Opera as well.
What is your OC’s favorite kind music (and song if there is one)? Theatre music and jazz.
What is your OC’s favorite form of entertainment? It was game consoles with friends when they were younger, and admittedly they still play on those from time to time. But now it’s mostly reading and or cuddling up and watching a movie or an exhibition match that they’re not in.
What is your OC’s favorite color? Purple
What is your OC’s favorite scent? That aftershave Rose be wearin. The smell of a clean pasture. The salt on the air on the shore of a beach. Comfort foods as they're cooking.
What is your OC’s favorite animal? They can’t pick a pokemon that would be playing favorites and they don’t wanna do that. Variks
What is your OC’s favorite sound? Laughter, Variks’ little chitters, Thatch’s grumbles when he rolls in his sleep, wooloo and dubwools bleating, wind moving through an open field, waves as they crash on a surface, familiar laughter, and Rose's voice.
What is your OC’s favorite time of day? Morning. They love the still before the day truly starts and the colors in the sky as the sun rises.
What is your OC’s favorite kind of ice cream? Chocolate with any kind of sweet chunks in it.
What is your OC’s favorite dinosaur? Tyrantrum
Ask your own question. why
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